


Love, Interrupted

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: As Hermione's divorce is finalized, her daughter wants to know the story of how her parents fell in love.The short answer is that it's complicated.Note: This story inspired by "Definitely, Maybe."
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Comments: 23
Kudos: 56
Collections: 2020 Dramione 50k Classic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you to my alpha and/or beta for their time and help.

Rose Granger-Weasley sighed, her eyes misty and a sappy smile on her face. 

Hermione chuckled at her daughter as she turned the volume on the telly down. “Did you like that one?”

Rose’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Did I like it? OH, Mummy, it was my favorite ever!” She hopped off the sofa and stood, spreading her arms wide. As she spun in a slow circle, she shut her eyes. “Just imagine it! Someone to love incandescently! That’s such a beautiful word, Mummy.” Rose froze, a completely different expression on her face. It was one Hermione knew too well. “Incandescent. What does it mean?”

Without a word, Hermione merely pointed to a large book on the bookshelf beside the television. 

“I know, I know. To the dictionary!” Rose skipped over to the book and opened it, flipping through large chunks as she neared the “I” section. “In… Incan… Incandes… Incandescent. Adjective. First definition: white, glowing, or luminous with intense heat.” She hummed and looked at her mother. “That wasn’t it. Second definition: strikingly bright, radiant, or clear. Hm. I don’t think that’s quite it, either, though she did seem to be glowing.”

Hermione laughed. “Glowing? Where did you hear that expression?”

“Gramma, of course. She always says women in love are glowing. She once said it about Aunt Pansy when she started coming round. I observed that Aunt Pansy never _actually_ emitted light, so I figured it must have been metaphorical.” 

“An excellent observation.” Hermione smiled warmly at her daughter. “Do go on.”

Rose nodded and looked back at the dictionary. “Third definition: full of strong emotion; passionate.” She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Well, this certainly seems to fit the best. The fourth definition is masterly, extraordinarily lucid. That doesn’t fit.” Rose shut the dictionary and returned to her mother’s side. “Mummy, Elizabeth meant that she was full of strong emotion for Mr. Darcy, didn’t she?”

“Yes, that’s precisely what she meant.” Hermione’s eyes drifted to where the book belonging to the movie was sitting on the shelf. It was one of her favorite books of all time and after watching the movie with Rose, she decided it was time to reread it. She stood and retrieved it, hugging it to herself as she turned around. “Bedtime, Rose, dear.”

Rose groaned. “Aw, Mum! Do I have to?”

“Yes, of course. All good things must end, including movie night. Now go, brush your teeth, and get ready. I’ll be along in a few minutes to read to you.”

Rose didn’t move yet. This was nothing new; every night, despite being ten years old, she acted as though the whole bedtime routine was completely new. Hermione shut her eyes, praying for patience. Just as she was about to repeat her instructions, Rose spoke.

“Mummy? Have you ever felt incandescently happy? Like Elizabeth Bennet?”

The question startled Hermione, and she quickly looked away from the piercing gaze of her daughter. “I don’t… What do you mean, dear?”

Rose pulled her legs up under her, crossing them on the cushion. “Well, it’s only this. I’ve never heard Gramma say that _you_ were glowing. Not in all my life.” Her expression turned serious. “And you and Daddy are getting divorced. Does that mean he never made you happy? Like Mr. Darcy made Elizabeth?”

“Oh darling, real life isn’t like books and movies. It’s… it’s messy and complicated, and sometimes things happen that we don’t expect.” Hermione sighed. “Sometimes people don’t get happy endings.”

“I know that already, Mum.” Rose waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve seen loads of people whose parents didn’t stay together.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. “You have, have you?”

Rose nodded contemplatively and held up her hand. “There’s Gemma’s parents, and Elliot’s, plus David’s parents are separated, like you and Dad right now.”

“All right. So love isn’t a fairytale. You’re absolutely right. It’s hard work. But Rosie, I did love your father. Very much. And he did make me happy—for a time.” Hermione smiled sadly. “But for us, it wasn’t enough.”

For a moment, Rose said nothing, only peered at her. “I think you should tell me the story of how you met and fell in love. You’re getting divorced after all, and I want to understand what went wrong.” Hermione started to speak but Rose held up a hand. “And tell me the _real_ story, please. Not some silly thing, like, ‘oh, we met, and fell in love, and when two people love each other very much, they take all that love together to make a baby! And that’s how you were born.’” Rose rolled her eyes. “No thank you.”

Hermione hesitated. Was her daughter old enough to hear the story, knowing how it would end? Knowing that, as of the next day, the divorce would be final? But before she could reply, Rose was talking again. 

“What was Dad like when you first met? Was he so handsome that he swept you off your feet at first sight? Or was he your best friend for years, and then suddenly, you looked at him, and he was looking at you in a way you’d never noticed before, and then bam! You realized he was the one for you?” Rose’s eyes sparkled. “Did you have another boyfriend before you met Daddy? Tell me the truth.”

Hermione was at a loss for words but she couldn’t help smiling. She tried to think of something to say that would pacify her inquisitive child before finally settling on the truth. “Your father and I… have a complicated history, Rose. I had two serious boyfriends before your father, and I dated some others here and there.”

“What’s so complicated? You fell in love, you got married, you had me. Best story ever.” The expression on Rose’s face belied the levity in her words. “Only I want more details than that.”

“I wish it were that simple, dear. But it’s definitely complicated, and far too long to tell tonight. So I’d like you to go ahead and get busy on what I’ve asked you to do.” Hermione strode through the room on her way to the kitchen, hoping that her response left no room for discussion. She set the book on the counter, far from the sink, and began washing the dishes. 

On many nights, Hermione did this monotonous household chore by magic, but on nights like tonight, when she felt unsettled, she liked to wash them by hand. Rose’s question had completely thrown her, and not for the first time, she wondered just how much her daughter truly saw despite the happy face she put on for Rose’s benefit. 

Hermione should know better; children were far more perceptive than most adults credited them. Still, things with Ron had been rocky for a long time. Rose had become used to the idea that her parents weren’t going to reconcile; in fact, the divorce papers were in Hermione’s bag, waiting for her to sign. It was hard to believe that after almost eleven years of marriage, she was about to be single again. Merlin, that would be strange. Even though she’d been living on her own for almost a year, while she and Ron had tried to salvage their relationship if at all possible, it would still be very final. She’d no longer be part of an “us.” 

Hermione heard the sound of the electric toothbrush draw closer to the kitchen and smiled to herself. Then, schooling her features, she faced her daughter. “Where do we brush our teeth?”

“The bathroom.” Rose spoke around the moving brush head, so her words didn’t come out as clearly as usual. 

Hermione made shooing motions, and Rose huffed and left. Forty seconds later she was back sans toothbrush. 

“Mummy? Will you _please_ tell me the story of how you and Daddy met? Look, I’m wide awake, not even tired!” As though the fact that she wasn’t yawning at that moment was enough proof.

“Oh, Rose, that’s such a long story. And you know a lot of it already.”

Rose leaned against the doorframe, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yes, but I want to hear how you fell in love!”

“I fell in love with him because he was kind and funny and made me feel safe.”

Rose made a face. “So what, now he’s mean and boring and scary?”

“Of course not! I still care about him, very much—he’s your father, after all, and he will always be an important part of my life. But…”

“It’s not incandescent.” Rose’s face fell briefly, then she rallied and smiled again. “I still really want to hear the story, Mum. The _love_ story. All I know is that you met him at school, but everybody goes to Hogwarts so that doesn’t tell me anything! 

A pang of pain struck Hermione at the wistful expression on Rose’s face. “Are you absolutely sure? You know how the story ends.” Her gaze flitted to the bag on the kitchen table. “I told you already that it’s very complicated.”

“I know. But maybe there’s something you missed. Maybe there was just a big misunderstanding, and you and Daddy just need to figure it out so that you can be together again.” The dreamy, far-off look faded, leaving behind only the sad eyes of a child who wanted nothing more than for her family to be whole again. “Maybe, if you tell me, you’ll realize it’s _not_ complicated and that, deep down, you really do love him. Incandescently!”

Hermione set down the rag she’d been using on the dishes, dried her hands, and went to Rose. She knelt down so that she could look her in the eye. “Rosie, darling. There wasn’t one, major problem between your father and me. It was… a lot of little things, some of which became big things. We were better off as friends, and we should have stayed that way. But life was funny with us, and we reached a point in our lives where we thought it might work.”

Rose stuck out her bottom lip. “Can’t I just know? All you ever do is talk in big, fancy terms but you don’t ever actually _say_ anything. I want to hear the story.”

“I hear you, darling.” The main reason she was hesitant was because she didn’t want Rose to get her hopes up. There was no future for her and Ron together, but hearing the story of their romance—tangled though it was—might be difficult. “Are you completely sure?”

She nodded emphatically. 

“The whole story?” Another nod. “Even if there are people in it who aren’t your father?”

Rose paused mid-nod. “What do you mean, exactly?”

Hermione sighed and stood, rolling her neck to relieve some tension. “I mean, that the story is complicated, and as we discussed earlier, there were other men before I married your father. 

“Did you kiss them?” Rose made a face. 

“Yes.” Hermione laughed. 

“Did you… _love_ them?” Her voice was a little unsure.

That question was a bit trickier. “At the time I did. Love changes, it grows and expands and does all kinds of bizarre things. Sometimes… we don’t even see it for what it is. But the truth is, the other men in this story were, in many ways, part of my story with your father.”

Rose frowned and went back to the sofa, her expression deeply thoughtful. Hermione followed and leaned against the door frame, waiting to hear what Rose would say. After a few minutes, she nodded decisively. “I want to hear it. Even the other men you dated.”

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time for Rose to be getting to bed, but Hermione knew her daughter. There would be no peace and no rest until Rose was ready. “All right. But we’re going to need popcorn for this. And hot chocolate.”

Rose beamed and bounced up. “I’ll make the popcorn!”

Ten minutes later, they sat back down on the sofa, a large bowl of buttery popcorn between them and steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Well, Hermione’s was hot, but she’d added enough milk to Rose’s so that she could drink it without burning her tongue. 

“I’m ready.” 

“I hope that’s true. But here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to tell you the story, but I’m not going to tell you which character is your father. Because this _will_ be a story. I’m going to change all the names and any details that might give away who I’m talking about.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be able to tell who my father is.”

“Oh, you think so, huh?” Hermione grinned. Rose was so very much like her; solving puzzles was one of her favorite things. “I look forward to seeing if you can figure out which character is your father.”

Rose’s eyes sparkled. “This sounds fun. I just know I’ll be able to figure it out. But first, I’ll need parchment plus a quill and ink.”

“Go ahead.”

Rose ran to her room and returned with the items. “Alright. You may begin now.”

Hermione thought quickly about how to tell this story. Rose knew almost everyone involved, so it would be tricky keeping the identities of everyone secret. She’d just have to take it slowly and be careful. 

“This story starts as any good love story starts: with me. I was considered quite good at magic in school, and I had plans for my life—big plans. My ultimate goal was to be Minister of Magic, but before I could get to that point, there were some major things I wanted to accomplish along the way.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I was once passionate about Magical Creatures and the mistreatments they’d suffered at the hands of wizards and the Ministry.”

Rose tilted her head. “But you still are, Mum. You give money to all kinds of causes for helping people.”

Hermione sighed. “That’s true, Rose. I do. But my ambitions went far beyond simply giving my money. I wanted to fight for magical creatures by changing laws and writing new ones that would improve their lives. And in order to do that, I wanted to finish school. So after the war, after the school was rebuilt I returned to Hogwarts for my eighth year. Most, but not all of the students my age returned, as well.”

“Why didn’t they all go back?” Rose asked. 

“Because of the war. Some… weren’t able to return. Others had been presented with opportunities that didn’t require it. But as I said, most students returned. Those who’d attended Hogwarts the year of the war didn’t get a very good education, and those who couldn’t attend had had none. They made a new class designed to help bridge the gaps between people that were revealed during Voldemort’s reign of terror.”

Rose nodded. “I see. Go on.”

“I was excited to get back and take all the new classes, as well as see what the teachers had for us to do. But first, I had to say goodbye to someone. My first boyfriend was one of those who’d been given a rare opportunity to start work without completing his education.”

“Let’s call him Mark.”

“Mark?” Hermione looked at her amusedly. 

Rose nodded. “Did you love him?”

Hermione sighed, smiling wryly. “I absolutely did.”

* * *

“I still don’t see why you have to go, Hermione.” 

She turned and gave Ron a sympathetic look. “I know. We’ve talked about this at least a dozen times.”

He reached for her wrist to stop her from continuing to frantically pace around her room, looking for anything she might have missed. Hermione let herself be caught, falling easily into his arms. “I know that, Hermione, but you’ve just never convinced me that it’s necessary.”

She shut her eyes, leaning into his warm embrace. No matter what, she always felt safe with him. “I don’t need to convince you about this. I would much prefer your full support, obviously.” She pulled back enough to look up at him. “This is what I want to do. It’s part of my plan, remember?” She kissed him quickly, then slipped out of his grasp and continued packing her things. She’d been staying with Harry at Grimmauld Place, since she no longer had a home to go to. Harry wasn’t home at the moment.

Ron bounced up on his toes, shoving his hands into his pockets with a frown. “Right. Your plan.”

“Yes. My plan to someday be Minister of Magic. It starts tomorrow, remember? I return to Hogwarts, finish my education, take my N.E.W.T.s, score thirteen O’s, then enter a lifetime of public service, making sweeping changes and reforming the way the wizarding world operates in England, bringing justice and equity for all magical beings.” She beamed at him as she added a few more books to her trunk. “But I have to finish school.”

“No, you don’t.” Ron huffed and leaned against the wall. “You can join the Ministry _now_. You’re Hermione Granger; you can do practically anything you want! Like Harry and me. I know under normal conditions you’d need certain N.E.W.T. scores to get into Auror training, but Kingsley let us in, no problem.”

“I know that. He made me the same offer. Remember, this isn’t our first time talking about this. But I’ll say it again since it’s apparently not sinking in yet: this is what I _want_ to do. Even if I don’t have to. Are we clear?” She closed the lid of her trunk, locking it with a wave of her hand. 

“I just don’t see why you need to go and waste your time, is all.” He wouldn’t meet her eye.

Hermione bristled slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t think it’s a waste of my time. Otherwise I wouldn’t be doing it. I’m going back for more than just test scores, Ron.” She hesitated to tell him more. She wasn’t quite sure just why she wanted to return to the school, but deep inside she knew that healing was part of it, and that she believed she’d find some kind of closure there. But he would probably dismiss that and keep arguing for her to stay. And she was tired, tired of repeating to him why she needed this. She understood where his sadness came from, but he also knew who she was; there was never any doubt that Hermione Granger would return to Hogwarts if it was permitted. 

He frowned at the ground. “All I hear is that you _want_ to be away from me for the next ten months.”

Hermione paused, then went to him, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. “Of course I don’t. But we’re both doing what we want, and right now, that takes us down separate paths. They’ll join up again after this year. I promise.”

Ron put his arms around her and rested his head on hers. “I’m just afraid you’ll go away and… I don’t know—forget about me.”

“Ron! I could never forget about you.” She looked at him, fiercely determined to convince him that everything would turn out fine. “I’ve fancied you for years, now. Remember? I’m not going to go off to school and forget you!”

“I suppose not.” He grinned then and kissed her gently. “And we know everybody who’s going to be there. It’s not like I need to worry about someone else snagging your attention.”

She laughed lightly, though his words made her slightly uncomfortable. “Don’t be silly. Are you worried I’ll meet someone and fall for him?”

He shrugged, not wanting to meet her eye. “I won’t lie and say it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

“Please don’t worry about that. I’m committed to you, and I want to make us work. After all these years, do you think I’d just throw that away?” She touched his face, bringing his gaze back to her. “Tell me you know better than that. Tell me you trust me.”

“I do, I trust you, it’s just… What if there’s someone there who catches your eye?” 

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, turning her head wildly about in an attempt to make him laugh. “I won’t look. See? I’ll walk around like this all the time.”

Ron chuckled and pulled her hands down. “I’ll miss you.”

“You won’t. You’ll be so busy in training you won’t have time. And we’ll see each other on weekends when we can—eighth years have much more freedom than we did—not to mention regular owls.”

“Daily owls.” He grinned, his eyes warm and friendly.

“Daily then. Besides, you’ll be the one meeting new people.” She gave him a knowing look. “What if there’s a really attractive, young instructor that has to show you the proper ways to hold your wand? Has to wrap her arms around you, get really close?”

Ron turned bright red. “Hermione, that won’t happen! Besides, you know any single woman is going to look at Harry first. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not. I’m only teasing.” She kissed him, lightly at first, then heavier as it sank in that it would be their last night together before she left for Hogwarts. They hadn’t been together but the one time, and it had been awkward and a little clumsy, but she thought it would be the perfect way to end their last night together, since there wouldn’t be any opportunities for it in the near future. 

With just a few waves of her hand, she shut the door and locked it, then cleared off her bed. She took Ron’s hand and tugged him toward it, biting her lip self-consciously. Ron caught her meaning and grinned, releasing her to pull off his shirt as he followed Hermione relaxed in his enthusiasm as she backed into the bed; she wound her arms around his neck and his lips met hers as she pulled him down with her.

* * *

“Well, Mark’s out.”

Hermione stopped abruptly. “What do you mean, he’s out?”

Rose sighed dramatically. “The boyfriend at the beginning? There’s no way he makes it to the end. Otherwise this would be a very short story. I met him at school, and after school, we got married. The end. Sorry, Mum, but that’s not very complicated.”

“You’re absolutely right about that.” She smiled. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please.”

“I mentioned that I was looking forward to returning to school. However, I had no idea what was in store for me. Not only was the whole eighth year concept brand new, but the teachers had come up with something that would seriously test everyone who’d returned. The biggest problem, as so many of my classmates saw it, were the group assignments.”

* * *

Hermione gaped at the Headmistress, who was peering at the group of eighth year students with pursed lips. Surely she had heard wrong. 

Seamus Finnigan raised his hand. “Professor. Do you mean to tell us that we’re going to be put into groups that we’ll be with the entire year? What if we don’t get on?”

McGonagall nodded curtly. “That’s precisely what I mean, Mr. Finnigan. You’ll be put in groups of eight, two from each of your former houses.” A chorus of groans went up around the room, with nearly everyone bursting immediately into chatter. “I will call out your names shortly. If there are any concerns, of course, you may come to me. But you’re all of age, and for Merlin’s sake, you’ve been through quite a lot. I should hope by now you be able to put aside your differences in the interest of your schooling.”

The room quieted almost instantly, a sober feeling pressing on everyone. McGonagall continued. “I trust that you will all be able to work together as befits your age and experience. There are some in this room you may have difficulty with, but I expect you to overcome your reservations for the good of your group.” Her eyes landed on the group of former Slytherin students, all huddled together and visibly separate from the rest of them. 

Though she wasn’t surprised to see the Slytherins, she was most interested in what Draco Malfoy was doing. Out of all of them, she was most curious about him. He was the only one of the group who’d taken the Dark Mark; Voldemort had lived in his home; he’d been tried as an adult and attending Hogwarts was a requirement, part of his punishment—it had been in his home, in his presence, that she had been tortured by his aunt. What would it be like being around him again? She knew he hadn’t exactly enjoyed himself over the last year; what would _he_ be like? As if sensing her gaze, he looked at her, their eyes meeting for an instant before she turned away.

“The first group will be as follows.” Minerva began to call out names.

“This is barmy.” Seamus muttered under his breath for those around him to hear. “She expects us to work with Slytherins?” 

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose so. Hopefully we won’t be stuck with anyone _too_ unpleasant.”

He scoffed. “I can’t think of any of them who are pleasant.”

“Daphne.” She smiled up at him. “She’s never sneered at me, not even once.”

Seamus started to speak, but McGonagall called his name. “What?” 

Everyone laughed; McGonagall frowned. “Please join your group, Mr. Finnigan.” She pointed to one corner of the room where a group had formed. 

Seamus picked up his bag, shrugged to Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors, and walked across the room to where the two Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws already waited. He was soon joined by Parvati, then Daphne and Zabini from Slytherin. 

Hermione sighed. So much for possibly being with the only pleasant Slytherin. 

“The next group, please gather in a new corner. Ernie Macmillan, Megan Jones, Michael Corner, Lisa Turpin, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger. Millicent Bulstrode, Draco Malfoy.”

Most of the room went silent. Hermione stared at McGonagall, sure she hadn’t heard right. The Headmistress raised her eyebrows expectantly as the others gathered to one side.

Neville stood up, eyes fixed on Malfoy, who had slung his bag over his shoulder and was shuffling toward their group’s corner. Neville waited for Hermione to gather her things, then protectively escorted her across the room. He kept himself between Hermione and Malfoy, but as far as Hermione could see, there was no point; Malfoy hadn’t once glanced her direction, nor did he seem to care.

Millicent looked Hermione up and down once, then rolled her eyes dismissively. She didn’t, however, speak to Malfoy or join him. He remained slightly apart, his eyes downcast. Hermione was glad that nobody had said anything or made a big deal about her being grouped with Malfoy. Surely they were all adult enough to move forward and do what needed to be done.

While McGonagall finished grouping everyone else, Megan Jones introduced herself. 

Millicent yawned loudly in the middle of her sentence, then sneered at Megan. “We know who you are, Jones. We’ve been going to school together for years. Why waste our time like that?”

Megan went slightly pink and stopped talking.

Hermione frowned. She wasn’t about to let Millicent Bulstrode set the tone for the group; not if she was going to be so unpleasant about it. 

“Megan, how are your parents doing?” She remembered Megan from Herbology and had always found the girl to be quiet. That she had been the first to try and establish a connection was surprising.

She gave Hermione a grateful smile. “They’re doing well, thank you. They’re both out of hospital now, though Mum is getting help to relearn to walk at the house a few times a week.”

Millicent glared at Hermione, then rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Is that really how this is going to be, Granger? We’re just going to prance around like we’re all the best of friends, like we didn’t just go through the worst year of our lives?”

“Would you prefer being nasty to everyone instead?” Hermione had no interest in petty school fights. She wanted to finish her education so that she could get on with her life. She’d faced actual Death Eaters multiple times and wasn’t about to let a spoiled brat ruin her last year. If she was to be stuck with the girl for the entire year, she wasn’t going to let her make the whole group miserable. 

“I don’t care about any of this.” Millicent flapped her hand at the group, the disdain evident on her face. “I just want to get through this stupid year so I can do what I want.”

“And do you want to spend the year fighting and clawing your way through? Or perhaps you could be civil, since we’re stuck with each other?” Hermione crossed her arms as well, her expression defiant. 

The rest of the group was gazing back and forth between them. Hermione knew that the success or failure of their joint projects—and thus their entire school year—was contingent on the outcome of this little showdown. She refused to back down, not only because her grades depended on it but because she didn’t want to despise her last year at Hogwarts. The war had taken enough from them, and she wanted to leave Hogwarts with a whole slew of good, new memories. 

Millicent narrowed her eyes and started to speak. 

To everyone’s surprise, Malfoy beat her to it. “Leave it, Mills. I for one don’t want to listen to squabbling all year, so either learn to play nice or shut up.”

Hermione whipped her head around to look at Draco Malfoy. 

Millicent opened her mouth like she was about to argue, but when Malfoy shot her a look, she scowled and huffed and slumped into a corner. Then Malfoy gave Hermione a single nod before returning to staring at the floor. 

Neville, who’d been warily eyeing the interaction between the two Slytherins, looked surprised. 

Hermione was taken aback as well. Not only had Malfoy inserted himself into the tense moment, but he’d helped to diffuse the situation by shutting down his fellow housemate. It was completely unexpected. She didn’t know the dynamics of Slytherin house, but from her observations before, he seemed to command a certain respect. But she’d missed all of the previous year and frankly, from what Harry had told her, she’d have thought Malfoy would have been knocked down a peg or two under Snape’s tenure. 

She studied him now in a different way, looking for some outward sign. He’d grown his hair long since she’d seen him last; it hung down to his chin, shiny, as white-blond as ever, and incredibly soft-looking. She had always thought so, despite how terrible he’d been as a child. 

By this point, the rest of the groups were sorted, and McGonagall addressed them all once more. “Now that you’re sorted, I’ll show you to your rooms. We’ve redone an old section of the castle for your use, and since you are all of age, we’ve decided to give you more freedom than the younger students.” Her jaw clenched, and it was obvious that this hadn’t been her favorite idea. “Remember that you’ll be doing large projects together with your groups, projects which will account for a significant percentage of your final marks. We’ve had some of the best educational minds work on the curriculum for you this year; most of your group assignment will involve multiple subjects. I expect nothing but the absolute best from you, as you are all of age and, for better or worse, hopefully wise beyond your years.” She pursed her lips. “I expect you all to set an example of good behavior and cooperation to the other students. The consequences for failure in this will be swift and harsh. Please follow me.”

Millicent stalked off ahead of everyone as though she couldn’t wait to be away from them all. Malfoy was taking his time rising, and Hermione suspected it was so that he could lag in the back. 

She wanted to say something to him but didn’t know what. “Thanks for your help” sounded lame in her head. There’d been too much bad blood between them; she chuckled at her thought about blood, since he’d always been so quick to disparage her for her Muggle-born birth. 

“What’s funny?” Neville seemed to have made it his personal mission to guard her. 

“Nothing. Let’s go.” She and Neville were the last to leave except for Malfoy, who followed once they were gone. 

McGonagall led them to a previously unused portion of the castle, stopping in front of a portrait of King Arthur and his knights sitting at a round table. “The password is Lemon Drop.” The portrait swung open, and she motioned for them to enter, following once everyone was through.

Their living quarters were incredible, a testament to the respect the Ministry and Hogwarts staff had for this group of students. They’d taken care to make the decorations neutral, not favoring any of the houses. The layout was similar to the arrangement of Gryffindor tower and, she had to assume, the other houses as well: a large common room full of tables, chairs, and sofas were centered around a large fireplace. The dormitories were split in half, with the boys relegated to one wing and the girls to the other. 

“You may go to your rooms now. Miss Granger, I’d like a word, please.” As the others dispersed to explore, McGonagall, who had remained by the entrance, motioned for her to follow. They went back into the hallway, which was quiet. “We have chosen our Head Boy and Head Girl, as you know, from the seventh year students, as is tradition. However, we felt that your class needed leaders of a different sort. You’ll lead your class in quiet, subtle ways, in part because I know you are a natural leader.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Thank you, professor! I’m honored, truly!”

McGonagall nodded once in acknowledgement. “I’ve already spoken to your counterpart. It was necessary to impress upon him that I expect unimpeachable behavior this year, but... It’s what Professor Dumbledore would have wanted. I believe it was always his intention to give the position of Head Boy to him, should circumstances have been normal. I’m sure of it. I only hope you’ll be able to see past your... well, your past in order to work with him.”

“Who is it?” Though she had a feeling she already knew.

“Mr. Malfoy. Now before you object, let me explain.”

“I wasn’t going to object. It makes sense, really.”

McGonagall arched an eyebrow. “You think so, do you? I learned after the war that Dumbledore had high hopes for that boy. He’d known about Mr. Malfoy’s assignment from… You-Know-Who and had tasked Snape with guiding the boy. Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy didn’t take any of his help, and well. We know what happened next. But the last time Dumbledore mentioned him in his writings, he expressed a strong desire that he hoped for a second chance for Mr. Malfoy. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Hermione tried not to nod too enthusiastically. “I’m sure you are. Putting him and me together is risky, but if we can learn to work together, it will show everyone else in our year that it’s possible. I mean, if Malfoy and I can put everything behind us, it’d be a good example to the others.” Of course, _actually_ putting their history behind them would be a feat in and of itself, to say nothing of forming some kind of functioning partnership.

“You don’t mind then?” McGonagall peered at her over her spectacles.

“No. It’s not like we’re Head Boy and Girl. They have a lot of responsibilities and have to work closely together.” She wondered how that might have gone. Never in his life had Draco Malfoy said anything kind to her; the best she’d had from him was apathy in sixth year. Though, if their interaction moments before was any indication, there might be hope yet; he’d seemed willing to work with her just a few minutes before, even against his own housemate. Surely, after everything they’d been through, they could manage to be civil.

McGonagall relaxed slightly. “I’m glad to hear it. He wasn’t the least bit shocked to hear that I’d chosen you as well. And, I’m pleased to say, he made no objections to working with you. I’m not sure how much will be required of you both since this is all very new. But thank you for accepting so willingly. I’ve got to go; dozens of other tasks to complete. Good night, Miss Granger.”

Hermione returned to the common room. It was mostly quiet, with groups of students talking in small clumps. Unsurprisingly, most of the groupings comprised former housemates. 

Her fellow Gryffindors noticed her entrance and waved her over. Hermione smiled and joined them. In the back of her mind though, she knew this was only a short reprieve—she would need to make an effort to mingle with all the other eighth years sooner or later. 

“What do you think of the groups?” Dean asked immediately.

They were all watching her expectantly. She smiled lightly. “I think it’s a fascinating idea, and I can’t wait to see what our first assignment is.’

“Yeah, but matching us up with the other houses?” Seamus was frowning. “I don’t know if I can get through a day without wanting to punch Zabini in his smug face.”

“At least you’re not in a group with Parkinson.” Parvati made a face. “She’s already complaining, and we haven’t been given a single assignment.”

“Hermione and I have Malfoy.” Neville shuddered. “I know I killed that snake, but he still terrifies me.”

Parvati looked across the room, her eyes seeking him out. “If we manage to get through the week—to say nothing of the whole year—without getting into a fight with them, it’s going to be a miracle.”

* * *

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Rose was waving her hands to get Hermione’s attention. “How is this about your love story with my dad? I don’t want to hear every detail about your last year at school.” Then her eyes went wide. She made a face. “I know you said you met him at school, but you’ve mentioned…” She started ticking off her fingers. “Seven men so far. Are any of them my father?”

Hermione gave her a mysterious smile. “I told you to see if you could figure it out. Any guesses yet?”

Rose pulled her parchment over to look at. “I’ve written down Robert, Mark, Steven, Derek, Hunter, Watson, and Adam. That’s… a lot, Mum. So far, Robert seems promising.”

Hermione checked the notes she’d taken for herself to keep everybody straight. Ron was Mark, and Luke Watson was Draco. Those were the two most prominent characters so far, but Neville’s story name was Robert, Harry’s was Steven, Blaise was Adam, Dean was Hunter. For the women, so far Millicent was Tina, Pansy was Iris, Ginny was Chloe, Parvati was Shital, and Luna was Mary. Careful not to give any hints, Hermione nodded. “There’s nothing I can do about that, dear. I had a lot of friends. You wanted the story. This is the story.”

“Alright. I’m ready for you to continue.”

Hermione took a big gulp of her hot chocolate and ate a handful of popcorn. “Well, Shital turned out to be quite right in her prediction. We didn’t make it through the week without a squabble.”

* * *

After getting their first group assignment—a potions and herbology combination from Slughorn and Sprout—the first task was to think about what they would do and how. 

Millicent tried to steer the group, giving everyone but herself the hardest work. She barely looked at Hermione and wouldn’t give Malfoy the time of day. Hermione found this dynamic interesting. Millicent had done what he’d said the day before, so there was some kind of deference she was paying him, but it didn’t seem that she enjoyed doing so. In fact, she did her best to complain about _everything_.

When Lisa pointed out that Millicent’s plan was horrible, she flew into a rage, then sulked in a corner. 

Nobody spoke for a few minutes, everyone unsure what to say or how to proceed. 

Finally, Malfoy heaved a great sigh, as though what he was about to do came at great personal cost. “Granger, we all know you have an idea, so let’s hear it.” He turned in his seat so that he was facing her, giving her his full attention. 

The instant their eyes locked, she felt a swoop of something alarmingly pleasant and familiar, and she had to look away. Her notes were suddenly very interesting, and she spent a few seconds collecting herself. When she spoke, she could feel his eyes on her. “There are two primary aspects of this task. One is the potion itself, the other is the ingredients. I know Malfoy is adept at Potions, so I suggest he lead that portion. I’m sure some others of you are, as well; I’m only speaking from the experience of going through six years of Potions lessons with him.” She cleared her throat. “Research is something I’m rather familiar with, and since we have to research every ingredient we’ll be using in the potion, I’d be happy leading that effort. If you’re agreeable, then the rest of you can choose which part you’d prefer to work on--though we should keep the teams even.”

She chanced a glance at Malfoy to see what he might think about her suggestion, and he had the barest hint of a smirk on his face. It disappeared as soon as she looked his way, though. 

The others looked at her, then at Malfoy, then at each other. 

“I’d like to help with the ingredients.” Neville smiled at her. “If that’s alright with you.”

Megan nodded vigorously. “You were the best in Herbology in our year, Neville.”

Michael spoke up next. “I’d like to help with the potion.” 

Hermione beamed at her and turned to Malfoy. “Any objections?” 

“None.” He tossed his head slightly in an attempt to get his hair out of his face. “Jones, Mills, Corner, what do you say to helping with the potion part?”

Millicent rolled her eyes but didn’t object. Michael looked as though he wished he could say no, but he didn’t. 

“Lovely. Lisa, Ernie, you’re with us then.” Hermione grinned.

They spent the next fifteen minutes working out how they wanted to proceed, and by the time they were done, Hermione felt really good, not only about the project, but about her group. She wasn’t naïve enough to think they’d never have any problems, but they’d managed to start their first assignment without any issues.

Hermione said goodbye to everyone as they left the room. McGonagall had given each group a small room off the hallway leading to their dormitories where they could meet anytime they needed to. With a start, she noticed that Malfoy was hanging back, and she wondered why. Feeling suddenly anxious at the thought of being alone with him, she hurriedly threw everything into her bag and started to leave. 

“Granger, wait.”

She shut her eyes, counted to five, then spun around, trying not to appear too much like she was on the verge of panicking. Yes, she’d said that working with him this year would be fine, but now that they’d come to it, she couldn’t help some of the residual knee-jerk reactions she had to him. 

He merely smirked, his bag slung across his body and his hands shoved into his pockets. His hair hung limply into his eyes, which were looking at her with an intensity and—could that be vulnerability?

“I thought your plan was really good. Dividing us by our strengths is smart.”

“Thanks. I was surprised you wanted to hear my ideas.”

He shrugged. “It would be unwise to ignore the fact that you’re generally recognized as brilliant.”

Unwittingly, the corner of her lips tilted up in something approximating the start of a smile. “Careful, Malfoy. That was almost nice.”

“Noted.” He leaned back against the table, regarding her thoughtfully. “McGonagall told me she spoke to you about our new positions.”

She nodded. 

“I don’t know what that will entail this year, but with that and this group, it would appear we’ll be spending a good bit of time together. So I thought I ought to apologize. For... you know. Everything.” He looked extremely uncomfortable now, and she could tell his first instinct was to flee. His fist was clenched inside his pocket. “I was a right arse to you growing up, and for no good reason. The truth is, I had always been told I would be top of the class, and then you came along with your perfection, and it made me angry.”

Hermione crossed her arms. “Don’t lie to yourself, Malfoy. You hated me long before I bested you in every subject.”

His jaw clenched and his gaze flitted to the door. “I know what you mean. But that was just me being stupid. I didn’t even know you. I couldn’t really hate you.” He let out a sigh. “And even once I did know you—sort of, anyway—I was jealous. It doesn’t excuse anything. I’m...just apologizing. I’m sorry. Okay?”

It was tempting to drag this out, to poke him and make him even more uncomfortable, but that would only be cruel. They _would_ be spending significant time together, so it was best to put the past behind them as soon as possible.

“Thank you for saying so, Malfoy. I appreciate it.” She looked at the floor. “I know you were just a kid—”

“Don’t do that.” His tone was sharp. “Don’t make excuses for me.”

She met his determined gaze, surprised by him. It would appear that he wanted to take responsibility for his actions, something that was very different from how he’d been before. “I was only going to say that you were a kid, repeating things you didn’t understand. I knew that. And when you were older—”

“I made the best decision I could.” He was defensive, readying for a fight.

“I _know_.” She pursed her lips, trying not to be annoyed. “I can’t imagine what you went through, what you saw...”

He deflated a bit then, kicking at something on the floor before finally letting out a long breath. “And... at my house...”

She flinched slightly, phantom pain lacing her nerves once more, a regular occurrence whenever she thought about that day. 

“I’m so... I can’t... There are no words to adequately express how sorry I am.” His voice cracked at the end, and she looked at him, shocked. His eyes, once hesitant, were wide and open, shiny and rimmed in red. “I’ve relived that day over and over, desperate to find some way I could have done something differently...”

“Besides just watching, you mean?” There was a bite to her voice, sharper than she’d intended, but it was hard to hear him speak of the worst day of her life as though it has been him there on the floor, writhing, waiting to die.

He glanced towards a window, his shoulders tense despite his seemingly casual stance. “That’s just it, though. I... I’d been there, right there, that same… bloody spot. On the floor. Under my aunt’s wand.” He looked at her then, a strength she had never imagined he could possess radiating from him. “Begging for death. And I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Especially not someone who’d done nothing more than best me at every subject in school.”

Tears filled her eyes and she swiped then away. Maybe he did understand, just a little. “There was nothing you could have done. I never blamed you.” 

“I did enough of that for both of us, then.” He rubbed his left arm absently through his long sleeve shirt. 

She wondered if the Dark Mark was still there, cold black ink against his marble pale skin. 

“Do you still? Blame yourself, I mean.” 

“Granger, I will probably blame myself for the rest of my life.” He shifted and stood up, readjusting his bag. 

“Don’t. Please.” For some reason she didn’t understand, she stepped toward him, though she had no idea what to do next. “Don’t blame yourself. The only person who deserves it is Bellatrix.”

He shut his eyes, clenching his jaw. “I’m grateful every day that she’s dead.”

She didn’t know what made her do it, but before she realized what was happening, she was speaking. “Listen, Malfoy. You said yourself that we’re going to be spending a lot of time together this year. Do you think maybe we could... I don’t know, start over? We may never be friends, but I think we could manage not being enemies.”

He looked up at her through the hair falling in his face, those intense eyes searching her own. “Yeah. I’d like that. Not enemies.”

“Good.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Hermione Granger. I like books and strawberry ice cream and long walks down library aisles.”

Malfoy laughed—actually laughed—and shook her hand. “Draco Malfoy. Quidditch, sweets, and also books.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mal—er, Draco. That’ll take some getting used to.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t expect me to call you by anything but Granger.”

“I would never.” She smiled wryly. “Draco.”

* * *

As the weeks went by, Hermione’s group fell into an easy routine. Whenever they got a new assignment, they’d divide into two small teams to focus on different aspects of the project. Hermione set up a chalkboard in their meeting room with everyone’s assignments to help minimize confusion and keep people on task. 

One month after school started, they got their first group project back. Hermione took the paper from Slughorn and shoved it into her bag without looking at it. She met Draco’s eye across the room, and he nodded ever so slightly. After class, their entire group hurried to their meeting room. With shaking hands, Hermione pulled the report out with her eyes closed. Then she flipped it around so everyone could see it. 

There were instant squeals, so she opened her eyes to see for herself. They’d scored an O, written in red ink across the top of the paper by all of their names. A long note followed, and Hermione hesitated before reading aloud. Draco peered over her shoulder, then banged a book on the table, shocking everyone into silence. 

“Let Granger read this.”

She nodded her thanks. “Here’s what Slughorn said. ‘Congratulations on writing the most thorough, comprehensive report on the Veritaserum I have ever had the pleasure to read. Professor Sprout raved about the detailed descriptions of all the plants, and she loved the drawings. Well done, everyone. I look forward to more from you.’” 

The paper then got passed around, with everyone oohing and aahing over the abundance of glowing comments throughout. Hermione felt insanely pleased with her group. Only Millicent still felt like an outsider. She was in the corner, rolling her eyes and generally trying to act like she hated everything. She’d taken to glaring daggers at Draco whenever she saw him, which Hermione found odd.

Of course, she hadn’t worked up the courage to ask him about her, but maybe she would soon. 

“We need some food in here!” Ernie called out. 

“Ooh, what I wouldn’t give for a Butterbeer and a lemon custard!” Michael added.

Hermione banged the table as Draco had done to call for quiet. “If you really want to celebrate, I’ll take care of it.” Everyone heartily agreed except Millicent, who shook her head, grabbed her bag, and walked out. “Alright, I’ll be back in just a few minutes!”

She hurried out and started toward the entrance hall. 

“Granger.”

Hermione stopped at the sound of Draco calling her name, only to have him run into her hard enough to knock her down. Thankfully, he caught her before she fell, but it caused him to stumble as he tried to keep her from falling while also not tumbling over himself. They ended up pressed against a wall, Hermione squashed awkwardly between it and Draco, one of his arms around her waist and the other flat against the wall. 

She started laughing, and he carefully extricated himself, chuckling as he did so. 

“Sorry.” Hermione peered up at him, surprised at how close he was—close enough to see the laughter in his eyes mixed with something she couldn’t place. “I didn’t know you were right behind me.”

“It’s alright. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Her smile faltered as he didn’t move, staying right there in front of her in her personal space. 

He cleared his throat and stepped back. “I, um, was wondering where you were headed. And I thought I’d try to find Mills, too.”

“Oh, yes. I think you should talk to her.” Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, feeling flustered in his presence for the first time all year. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure she’ll open up to me. I’m sure you’ve noticed that most of my fellow Slytherins don’t want to have much to do with me.” He quirked his lips and turned away from her, as though considering his options. “I think I’ll let her be tonight.”

Hermione shut her eyes and forced herself to calm down. “I’m headed to the kitchen, if you want to join me.”

His eyes widened. “The kitchen? You know how to get in?”

“I happen to, yes. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Nodding, he fell into step beside her. 

Ten minutes later, they were back in their group meeting room, hailed as heroes for procuring so much food and drink. When everyone had taken what they wanted, they all sat and talked and joked. Hermione was thrilled at how everyone was treating Draco well. She’d taken the lead on that after they’d decided to start over, and after he’d proved himself over and over to be a reliable teammate and an excellent leader, the rest of the group had warmed up to him. 

Hermione just needed to figure out how to bring Millicent around.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Christmas break arrived, their group was working together seamlessly. Even Millicent, while not yet trying to fit in, did what was asked of her without too much complaining. Hermione was excited to leave Hogwarts to see her friends she’d missed dearly. 

Ron and Harry had met her at Hogsmeade for one of the weekend visits in November, but they hadn’t been able to stay long. That trip happened to fall on a busy day for the Auror training class, and they’d needed to return by the early afternoon. Ron had seemed happy if a little distant. She thought it might have been that he was tired, but she didn’t press him. She was happy just to have him at her side again, to be with him and Harry like old times. She did her best to forget that they’d chosen a different path than she had and just enjoy their company. 

Now, though, she had a full two weeks with Ron to look forward to, and she packed her things with an extra spring in her step. She wouldn’t be taking the train to London; instead she’d simply Apparate to The Burrow, where she planned to spend the holiday. 

With everything shrunk and stashed in her beaded bag, Hermione left her bedroom—one of the luxuries of being an eighth year student was not having to share a room—and went to the common room to say goodbye to her friends. It was the last day of classes, and almost everyone in eighth year was leaving today.

Hermione wished happy holidays to everyone she saw while constantly searching for the one person she was most anxious about seeing. Her relationship with Draco had grown beyond “not enemies” and now fell firmly in the friend position. He was easily her favorite person in the castle, a fact that astonished her whenever she thought about it. The only problem was that Ron didn’t know—in fact, nobody outside of Hogwarts knew. 

Eighth year was like a school within a school. They rarely saw the other years, and they typically chose to eat meals together in their common room, which was large enough to accommodate them all. Occasionally someone would eat in the Great Hall, usually when that someone was dating one of the younger students. 

Hermione saw Ginny and Luna now and then, but though she’d told Ginny she’d been put in a group with him, neither of them really knew about the extent of her friendship with Draco. If either of them saw her with him, it was only in the halls going to and from classes.

She didn’t know why she felt strange telling them about Draco. It wasn’t as though they were doing anything wrong. Of course, the fact that he’d been the childhood enemy of her and her friends might have had something to do with her hesitation. But whenever she thought of explaining, she didn’t know how to proceed. It would be hard for them to understand, since her closest friends weren’t part of her daily life. They hadn’t been around to see, not only the changes in Draco, but in all of the Slytherins. 

Granted, her friendship with Draco was exceptional among the eighth years. He had received his fair share of glares and stares over it in the beginning, but he’d shrugged them off like they were nothing. His friends had slowly started speaking to him again, a fact that made Hermione very happy. He was warmer to everyone, and he’d even gone so far as to fly with Neville a few times. 

“Has anyone seen Draco?” She finally broke down and asked a few people still lounging in the common room. 

They all exchanged looks, and Neville responded. “Er, well, earlier. He left already. Got an owl and was gone fifteen minutes later. I don’t think anybody knows what happened.”

Hermione's heart sank.. “I hope everything’s okay!”

Pansy glanced at Daphne, then at Hermione. “I’m sure you can owl him. He’d probably tell you.” 

“Thank you. I’ll do that.” She smiled and went back to her room, sad that she wouldn’t be able to give Draco his gift in person. She’d made him a fake book, hollowing out the inside of an old Potions textbook, and filled it with chocolate Snitches. 

With a sigh, she packed the gift, making a mental note to mail it for Christmas. There was a knock, and she opened her door to find Theo on the other side. The eighth year students had discovered that, unlike their former common rooms, the girls side was no longer automatically off limits to the boys. It had been a very interesting revelation, though since everyone had a private room, it didn’t make much practical difference. “Granger. I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t want to draw any attention to it. But Draco said to tell you he hated to leave without saying goodbye but that you could expect to hear from him soon.”

“Alright. Thank you, Theo.”

He nodded. “Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

“You too!”

Despite feeling more disappointed than she thought possible, Hermione made her way through the castle and out the gates. She took one last look at Hogwarts, with all the lights in the windows blazing and snow covering every surface. It was truly one of her favorite places on earth. 

Then she Apparated to The Burrow.

* * *

“Mum, wait. So you didn’t even get to see Luke before Christmas?” Rose looked crestfallen. 

Hermione chuckled. “No, I didn’t see him.”

“Did he write to you? Why did Luke leave so abruptly?”

“He did write. His mother had taken ill, and he wanted to be with her as soon as possible. She was all better by the time we came back to school.”

“And how did Mark and Steven take the news that you were friends with him?”

“Steven took it well enough. Mark, though… he did not like the idea. The three of us had quite a history with him and his friends, so it was strange to them that I could even want to be in the same room with him, much less be his friend.” Hermione reached for another handful of popcorn only to discover that the bowl was empty. “Oh no! What do we do?”

Rose’s eyes twinkled. “Make more?”

“Aren’t you tired yet?”

“Of course not! I’ve only just gotten a good start on my list.” Rose tapped the quill on her parchment, which she’d fastened to a large book with a piece of tape. 

“Your list?” Hermione tried to see what her daughter had written. So far there were names written down, plus a few notes for a few of them. 

But Rose snatched it up before she could get a good look. “To be honest, I was hoping to hear more about Robert. But I suppose this story is all about Luke.”

“It’s not. We’re just in a part of the story that has a lot of him in it.” She tapped Rose’s nose. “I promise we’ll get to other things soon.”

“Oh, I don’t mind hearing about him if that’s my father. Is that him?” She smiled her most darling smile, the one that could often get anything out of anyone. 

But Hermione was practically impervious. “Nice try. You’re supposed to be trying to guess.”

Rose sighed dramatically. “All right. I mean, you were still technically with Mark at the time.”

“That’s exactly right. And that Christmas was a really nice one, except that I missed my parents dreadfully. But Mark’s family was so kind that there were times when I almost forgot that I would probably never see them again.” It still hurt, even after all this time. It probably always would. “After Christmas, I got to see all my friends at Hogwarts again.”

“Including Luke.”

Hermione laughed. “Including Luke. Only I was struggling with missing my parents more than I’d realized. I got through the holidays in one piece, but then when I returned to the castle, all of the feelings I’d pushed aside and shoved away came roaring back at me. Because, Rose dear, feelings and emotions don’t go away unless you face them. You can bury them, ignore them, try to destroy them, but they will pop out at you when you least expect it. And something about going back to school brought them out for me. I managed to fight them for a few weeks, but then in the middle of January, something inside me broke. It was a book that did it.”

* * *

The owl dropped the package off at breakfast just like any other day. Hermione was deep in a conversation with Justin Finch-Fletchley and Dean about the merits of electronic toothbrushes, so she took the package, fed the owl, and set it aside. 

After breakfast, she opened it with trembling hands. When she peeled back the paper, a 1973 edition of Pride and Prejudice was revealed. Like always, Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening the book. 

There was an inscription, but it wasn't the one she wanted. Hermione read the note to keep from bursting into tears right then and there. It was sweet, from Edward to Patricia, may she always remember him and her love would carry him through every storm and—

She shut the book, biting her lip. The common room was suddenly too full, too loud; she needed air. 

Without even stopping to think, she hurried out as stealthily as possible, then practically ran to the astronomy tower. She flung open the door and charged up the stairs, her heart pounding and her body trembling with the need to breathe. 

Bursting through the door at the top, she began gulping in air as though she'd been under water.

It took her a few minutes for her heart rate to calm. She was just starting to breathe more evenly when the door behind her opened. Shutting her eyes, she willed the intruder to leave. For a moment, she thought it had worked, but then the person began walking toward her. 

"Hermione?"

The relief she felt was instant and huge; she knew that voice. "Draco. How did you find me?"

He stepped up close behind her, close enough that she could feel his body heat. Then she felt something warm draped around her shoulders. "That map of yours. Or, Potter's, really. I told you you'd come to regret showing it to me." 

Hermione pulled the cloak he'd brought—his own—tighter around her, relishing the warmth and the smell that was uniquely him. "Thank you. I didn't realize—i didn't mean—"

"It's nothing." Draco moved to stand beside her, and he leaned against the stone balcony. He was quiet for a long while. "I never thought I'd come back up here."

She didn't respond; there was nothing to say. 

"Are you okay? You dropped this in your rush to leave." He held out the book that had come that morning. 

Hermione took it with a heavy sigh. "Thank you."

"Is it a good book?" 

She turned it over in her hands, admiring the exquisite detail in the cloth cover. "It's excellent. It's my favorite."

"Then why did it upset you so much? You don't have to tell me, of course. But if you want to talk... I'm all the way up on this bloody tower. Might as well make it worth the trip."

A sharp laugh escaped her lips, borne of shock at his words. When she looked at him, his expression was drawn. 

"Have you ever been back up here?"

His jaw clenched. "Only for classes. It's... Not so bad, then. But I feel a little sick every time."

Hermione put a hand on his arm, wishing she could offer him some comfort. He glanced at her hand, then up at her in surprise. There was nothing she could think to say; he had demons of his own to wrestle.

She let him go and leaned on the railing. "It's... my parents. I... I modified their memories before going on the run with Harry, and... I botched it up. They live in Australia and don't remember me at all." It came out as a whisper and her hands were shaking. Not even Harry and Ron knew the full truth. "Healers there say the spell damage is irreversible. I... I can't quite accept that, but what do I really know? Obviously I messed up in the first place, and..." Tears started to fall. She shut her eyes, willing them to stop. Crying in front of Draco was the last thing she'd wanted to do. 

It was his turn to comfort her; scooting closer, he took her hand and placed it in his. He didn't lace their fingers, just gave her something to hold onto. 

The unexpected touch bolstered her, and she let her mind marvel at how strong his hand felt, how his fingers looked next to hers. But no, those thoughts couldn't be allowed because— 

Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths before she continued. Draco was content, it seemed, to wait for her. He was staring over the grounds, seemingly lost in thought. 

"I've mostly been okay. But Christmas without them was... hard. Only I was so busy I never let myself feel it. And then today, this book came." She looked down at it with a sharp pang in her heart. 

"Did your Mum read it to you?" 

Hermione shook her head. "No. She gave me a copy, one just like this edition, and wrote an inscription in it. It was one of my favorite possessions. But after I altered their memories, I didn't think... They got rid of it when they were packing to move to Australia. So now, I'm trying to find where it went. I've sent out letters to used book stores, asking for any copies of this book with an inscription. So far, I've gotten five, none of them the right one. I don't really know why this one upset me so much, except that it was the first one after spending Christmas without them." She shrugged. 

The silence that drifted between them was comfortable. Hermione felt immense relief at having unburdened herself of the biggest secret in her life. 

Finally, Draco spoke. “Well, that sucks.”

Hermione laughed out loud, surprising herself and him. “I’m sorry. That was just… really funny. And so very true. It does suck, doesn’t it?”

“It sucks balls.” 

Tears streamed down her face; of laughter this time rather than grief. Even Draco started to chuckle, unable to resist her infectious laugh. It didn’t last long, but it felt really good. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

Draco grinned and took the book from her, studying it carefully. “Pride and Prejudice. What’s it about?”

She sighed and took it back from him. “Maybe some other time. Thank you, Draco. I needed to laugh like that.”

“Anytime.” He gave her a smile, a real one, the kind she so rarely saw from him. 

“I’ll see you later. I’ve got to meet Padma about something for Runes.” She patted his arm as she turned to go. “Oh, here’s your cloak.” Slipping out of it, she immediately missed its warmth. He took it from her but didn’t put it on, only set it on the stone wall beside him. 

“Later, Granger.”

* * *

"The rest of the year went well. Slowly, bit by bit, Luke became someone I considered a very dear friend. In fact, when I let myself think about it, he was my best friend. Nobody else in my life treated me the way he did."

"Did you fall in love with him?" Rose spoke in a sing-song voice. 

Hermione laughed lightly. "Remember, I was still with Mark. He was my boyfriend."

Rose shook her head dismissively. "Everybody knows you don't end up with the first one. Look at Elizabeth! It's a good thing she escaped Wickham, and he was the first boy who caught her eye."

"That may be true, but sometimes you do end up with your first love."

"Is that a hint?" Rose's eyes went wide.

Hermione threw a pillow at Rose. "No, it's not! Merely a fact."

Rose huffed and checked her notes. "Mummy, I really like Luke. At first I didn't think I would, because he had been mean to you, but he really changed, didn't he?"

"Yes, he really did. He became... very special to me."

"So special that you married him?" She waggled her eyebrows. 

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" Hermione stood. "I think we need more than popcorn. Come on." Rose showed no signs of being tired yet, and Hermione was enjoying this time with her. 

They went to the kitchen, and Hermione looked in the freezer. "Ah, perfect." Pulling something out, she brandished it with a triumphant grin. 

Rose's eyes went wide with delight. "Ice cream! Strawberry!"

"My favorite!" Hermione set about and prepared bowls for them both, then carried everything back to the living room. 

After taking a few bites, Rose seemed thoughtful. "If Luke isn't my father, why are we hearing so much about him? How does he fit in with you and my father?"

"We're getting to that part. Are you ready to hear it?"

Rose bounced once, then sat cross-legged as she faced her mother on the sofa. "I'm ready. Although I'll be sad to see Luke go."

"As I was saying, we became close friends. A few times over the last months at Hogwarts, he and I would visit used bookstores on the weekend, searching for the book my mother gave me. It was always fun, and we would find something else to do while we were away. Fabulous lunches on the river, museums, even a play once. We didn't find the book, but searching for it with him was... some of my favorite memories of that year."

As her thoughts neared the middle of May, however, her smile faltered. 

Rose noticed and put her hand on Hermione's. "What happened, Mummy? Did he break your heart?"

Hermione sighed. "It's... complicated. You see, I met with Ron one weekend in May. He was nearing the end of his Auror training."

* * *

Hermione grinned when she saw Ron. She ran from her friends and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Ron! This is such a surprise! What are you doing here?"

His smile was strained, but she thought nothing of it. He looked over her shoulder, no doubt to the group she'd just been walking with, a slight frown on his face. 

She turned around and saw Draco watching them, and she felt an odd twist in her gut. Then Draco turned away, flicking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. Ron continued to glare until her friends had disappeared into The Three Broomsticks.

Hermione found his hand and threaded her fingers with his. "I'm so glad you came! I've been wanting to talk to you, actually talk, for weeks now, but it's better in person than through letters."

"What did you want to talk about?" He tugged on her hand, and they started down the street. After a minute, Ron released her and tucked his hands into his pockets. 

Thinking nothing of it, Hermione looped her arm through his. "Oh, you know, the future. Our future. I'm so excited! You're almost finished, and I am as well, so soon we'll be able to really start our lives. I'm still planning to join the Ministry, and we'll be able to see each other all the time! I've asked Harry, and he said I could move into Grimmauld Place with him, since, you know, my parents sold their house. Draco said—"

"Oh, yes, please. I can't wait to hear what Draco has to say." The venom in Ron's voice was surprising. 

"What's that supposed to mean? He's my friend, you know that. Anyway. He said I should get my own flat and find a roommate. Then Pansy said she would live with me, so... I'm not sure what I should do. I know it's only temporary until you're established in your job and we find a place together. But I really think—"

"Hermione, will you just... shut up for a bleeding second!?"

He'd stopped to deliver his outburst, so Hermione did too, completely stunned. "What?"

Ron threw up his hands. "I don't want that! I don't... I don't want any of this! You're... you're just too much sometimes, Hermione!"

She felt like she'd been slapped in the face. "I'm... too much?"

Ron shook his head. "And I kissed Elaine Crenshaw. You remember her? A Ravenclaw a year ahead of us?" His ire disappeared as he spoke. "Yeah, um, she's in the program too, didn't make it last year but studied hard and... we kissed. Um. Quite a bit, actually."

At Ron's initial confession, it felt like she’d been hit with a Bludger. Then every word felt like a knife. 

"Did you sleep with her?" Hermione asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

"What? No." He kicked at something on the ground. "We just... kissed. And some over the clothes stuff. But that's not the point, Hermione."

She blinked at him. "Oh? What's the point, then?"

He sighed, letting his shoulders slump. "The point, Hermione, is that... I don't want the same things you want. I want a family—you want a career. You've got your whole life mapped out, for the next twenty years, and I.. I barely know what I want for breakfast most days. How can I be expected to know what I want in twenty years?"

Now she felt like he'd slapped her. "You don't... I mean... You don't know, beyond any doubt, that you'll want me in twenty years?"

He shut his eyes with a grimace. "Hermione—"

"Because in my plan, you were there. Always. No matter what else I wanted, it was always beside you!" She clenched her fists, unwilling to let go of him, of them, without a fight.

"But that's the thing!” He threw up his hands. “You didn't ask me once what I want! I don't want a wife who works all the time and tries to climb the ladder."

She crossed her arms, anger settling in. "You want someone to stay home and give you children, is that it?"

Ron gritted his teeth. "I never said—"

"You didn't have to. I hear it between every word you've said. I hope Elaine is willing to give you what you want, Ron. I'm done. You don't have to worry about my plans anymore; they no longer concern you."

She sent him one final glare and Disapparated, landing just outside the Hogwarts gates. She refused to cry until she was safely tucked in her bedroom, and then once she’d crawled into bed with all her clothes still on—even her shoes—she let them fall. 

When she woke, it was dark outside, and she wondered what had roused her. Then she heard a soft knocking on her door, and without thinking, she went to it and opened it a crack. 

Draco stood there, his brow furrowed in concern. "Granger? You okay?"

Hermione bit her lip, not sure how much, if anything, she wanted to tell him. But he seemed genuinely worried about her, so she opened the door to let him in, immediately crawling back into her bed and pulling the covers up over her head. 

She heard the door shut quietly, then his footsteps as he crossed the room. Finally, she felt the bed dip where he'd sat down. He didn't speak, however, apparently content to wait. 

After about fifteen minutes, during which she fought a raging battle in her mind over what she should do, Hermione sat up. A quick glance in the mirror revealed her hair to be a fuzzy mess and her eyes swollen and red. Not that she was trying to impress anyone. 

Draco looked her over critically, then unstuck a few stands of her hair from her cheeks. 

She groaned miserably and dropped her face in her hands. New tears started to flow, and she sank back down on the bed, curling into herself. Draco said nothing but slowly rubbed her back, staring out the window. 

His presence was soothing, and the stream of tears slowed. She rolled onto her back toward him, her movement drawing his attention. Their eyes met and her breath caught. How many times had she shoved down thoughts about him over the last year? How many times had she told herself they could only ever be friends? How many times had she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to cross the line of friendship and plunge heart first into finding out exactly what he might mean to her? But she had been in a committed relationship and understood the gravity of that. Not once had she been truly tempted to give in to her musings; she had made the choice to be faithful to Ron, even if he hadn’t. She couldn’t help the way she felt around Draco, couldn’t change the fact that he understood her in ways no one else ever had. 

But still, she hadn’t acted on it.

"Ron's an arse." 

Draco laughed, pushing his hair out of his face. "That's nothing new."

She forced a small smile and glanced away. "He's never been perfect. But I thought we had something. Turns out I'm too much for him."

When he didn't speak right away, Hermione looked at him. Draco's jaw was clenched, and one hand was curled into a fist. He met her gaze. "You're not too much, Hermione. Never. He's just way too small for you."

It was the first time he had ever used her given name, and the sound of it on his lips, almost like a wish, made something inside her swell. She pushed herself up to sitting so that now they were close—very close. 

Draco sucked in a breath but he didn't back away. His hair hung in his face, partially hiding his eyes, and she desperately wanted to read the mystery of him in their gray depths.

Her heart was pounding as she reached up and hesitantly took the strand of hair between two fingers. It was soft, impossibly so, and his eyes were boring holes through her so hot she felt near to bursting. But she wanted this—had wanted it for so long her whole body thrummed with anticipation.

Sliding on her bum toward him, she boldly took his face in her hands and, silently searching his eyes for hope, she arched up to kiss him. 

He responded like a tightly wound spring finally let loose. Snaking his arm around her, he took over completely, licking her lips to coax them open. When their tongues touched he groaned and deftly pressed her down onto the bed.

Hermione hadn't had a proper snog since Christmas with Ron, and this was entirely different. Kissing Ron had always been comfortable and safe; with Draco it felt like he might set her on fire. With Ron, she'd known what to expect, known how he liked to be touched and cared for. 

Though she'd thought about Draco more times than was strictly proper for a friend, kissing him was like realizing she'd been dying of thirst and hadn't known she was parched. 

Ron was familiar and one of her best friends and what if he was the only one who might have truly loved her?

Then, without warning, Draco stopped abruptly, one hand fisted in her tangled hair, the other splayed wide on her stomach. 

"What?"

He shut his eyes in resignation and released her, pushing himself back up to a seated position. 

"Fuck."

Hermione pushed up on her elbows. "Draco? What? Why did you stop?"

The look he gave her broke her already shattered heart. 

"You're crying."

She touched her cheek and found fresh tears there. "I don't care. Please. Don't stop."

He shut his eyes tight and turned away, hands on his knees gripping so hard his knuckles were white. 

"Draco—"

He stood up quickly, his back to her. "I'm not doing this. Not like this." He turned his head slightly, enough that she could see his profile through his long fringe. "I'll... I'll see you tomorrow." 

When the door closed behind him, Hermione began to sob, and she didn't stop until exhaustion claimed her.

* * *

"Ew, you kissed him? I thought Luke was your friend!" Rose scrunched up her nose. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the guy, but I thought he'd end up being the best friend you'd always wonder about. I didn’t think he’d be one of your boyfriends."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, the story isn't over yet."

Rose sighed dejectedly. "I know! First, Mark drops out, and now Luke. At this rate, I'm wondering if we've even met my dad yet!" She looked dramatically at her empty ice cream bowl. "I'm going to need some more for this, I can tell."

"I think that's enough." Hermione picked up their bowls and went back to the kitchen. 

Rose followed her. "But Mummy, I feel like we're starting over! What did any of that have to do with my dad? I want to hear about him!"

For a moment, Hermione considered dropping the story and just giving Rose an abbreviated version of what happened. But the look in her eyes, that of feeling like a great gift was being bestowed on her, made her drop that idea. Instead, she pulled out the ice cream. "One more serving."

Rose's eyes lit up, and she hurried to help.

"After this, you're brushing your teeth again and getting into bed. I can continue the story there."

Rose nodded eagerly and carried her bowl back to the sofa. "So what happened with Luke after that day? Did you ever talk about your kiss?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "I wish I could say that we talked and smoothed it all over, but I was a mess, Rose."

* * *

When the sun inched its way into her room the next morning, Hermione fought against it, burying herself deeply in the covers. She felt terrible; two men had rejected her in one day, one of whom had been her boyfriend of almost a year, the other her best friend. How was she supposed to look either of them in the eye? 

Of course, she had no desire to be around Ron any time soon, but she had to see Draco every single day. How was she supposed to carry on as though she didn't know what it felt like to kiss him? To have his hands on her? To be stretched out under him, feel his weight on her, even if it had only been a few short minutes?

At least it was a Sunday—a small mercy. She would stay in her room all day, nursing her broken heart and wounded pride.

Had she really thrown herself at Draco? She must have been in worse shape than she acknowledged. It was true that she’d struggled with feelings for her new best friend, feelings she hadn’t expected or really even welcomed. Ron was the one she’d cared for since third year; Ron was the one she’d thought of every night, the one she’d secretly longed for. 

When she’d started experiencing new feelings for Draco, she’d been resistant. Over the year, she’d slowly let the walls around her heart down, slowly allowed him to take up more and more room. It hadn’t been a conscious thing, merely a byproduct of their even-deepening friendship. And after all of that effort, after making an almost daily choice not to let her thoughts stray too far in Draco’s direction, all it had taken was one weak moment, and she would have let him have her completely. 

What must he think of her? Yes, he’d kissed her as well, but then he’d stopped it. He’d closed himself off and left her alone. It hurt. 

She buried her face in her pillow and screamed until she dissolved into tears once more. Despite how upset she was with Ron for kissing someone else, 

True to her word, she didn't leave her room all day. 

Nobody came to ask why.

* * *

Rose was crestfallen. "You know, I kept thinking he'd show up again and tell you it was some big mistake. That he wanted to stay best friends and go on book hunts together and stuff. Or that he really and truly loved you and could you maybe try again."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No. I avoided him. Threw myself into schoolwork. We only had a few weeks before our N.E.W.T.s, anyway. I studied more in those weeks than I ever have in my life."

"He didn't even try to talk to you?"

"He gave up pretty quickly. Got the picture that I didn’t want to talk about it when I kept running out of any room he entered." Hermione hid her face in shame. Saying this out loud to her daughter made her realize what an idiot she had been. She'd never even talked to him about what happened! Some Gryffindor she was. 

Rose gave her a chastising look. "So you just stopped talking to this guy you really liked?" 

"I did. Yes. Then. I ran into him again a few years later, though."

"What?? So it is possible that Luke is my dad?" Rose’s eyes went wide. 

Hermione tried to hide her reaction because she didn't want to give anything away. "But we saw each other again, I was with someone else."

Rose looked scandalized. "Who?"

"Someone I haven’t mentioned yet. I met him at school, too."

Hermione laughed as Rose fell back against the sofa cushions. “Another one? ” She sat up and grabbed the clipboard, then crossed off both Mark and Luke. Eyeing the list warily, she picked up her quill. “You haven’t really talked about any of these other men since early in the story. My guess is they aren’t too significant.”

“Go brush your teeth and get into bed. Then we can continue.” Hermione suspected that once Rose was in bed, snuggled under the covers with her head on the pillow, she’d fall asleep quickly. After all, it was hours after her usual bedtime. While Rose got ready for bed, Hermione cleaned up the dishes and got ready for bed herself. Then she tucked Rose into bed, fluffing up the pillows the way she liked.

“Mummy, before I hear about this new one, I have another question.”

“Of course. Anything.” 

"What ever happened with Tina? I know she's not part of my dad's story, but I want to know." Rose tapped her chin with the quill.

"Oh! Yes, Tina. Well, after I had my breakdown over my parents after Christmas, I found her in our group room one night with a bottle of Firewhiskey. I was going there to work on something that wasn't due for a while, thinking it would be empty."

* * *

Hermione's mind was focused on the Runes assignment she had just been given. Some of the classes didn't lend themselves to big group projects because not everyone took the electives. However, she'd been paired with Kevin Entwhistle, a Hufflepuff who, while nice, wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. 

Her plan had been to get a clear idea of what to tell him so he felt like he contributed. The last thing she wanted was for him to potentially ruin her hard work. 

She paused, her hand on the door. Merlin, she could be a swot. This assignment, like all of them, was important, and she wanted to do well on it. 

It was a few seconds after she entered the group room that she registered someone else's presence. Millicent Bulstrode was in a corner, sitting on the floor, an open, half empty bottle of firewhiskey beside her. She glared at Hermione, then defiantly took another drink. 

Firewhiskey was not allowed for students, even those of age. It was technically Hermione's duty to confiscate the bottle and report her. 

Hermione sighed and dropped her bag on a desk, then quickly shut and locked the door. She crossed the room, hesitated only a second, then sank to the floor beside her. For a moment, she thought Millicent would leave, but then she proffered the bottle, her expression almost daring Hermione to drink. 

She didn’t hesitate but took the bottle and tossed it back. The liquid burned on its way down, but Hermione refused to flinch. This moment was about showing strength to Millicent, and she wasn’t going to back down. 

“I can’t believe goody-two-shoes Granger just broke about seven school rules.”

Hermione snorted. “If you knew just how many school rules I’ve broken… well, then you would know.”

Millicent barked a laugh and took the bottle back, swallowing another mouthful. “Like you’ve ever done anything scandalous. What, did you get back to your common room five minutes after curfew once?” The derision in her tone was hard to understand; why did it sound like Millicent hated her when she barely knew her?

“Hm. Let’s see. First year I fought a troll in a bathroom, second year I brewed Polyjuice potion in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, third year I snuck out of the castle in order to try and capture a convicted murderer, fourth year… that one was pretty normal, really. Fifth year I defied Umbridge on a regular basis to meet with Harry and some others to learn proper Defense Against the Dark Arts. In sixth I used a Confundus charm to confuse Cormac McLaggan when he tried out for Quidditch Keeper, and in seventh I used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Bellatrix Lestrange in order to steal something from her vault.” She tried to think if she’d missed anything big. “Oh, and I lied to Umbridge and got her attacked by centaurs. She deserved it.” 

Millicent was gaping at her, slack-jawed. Hermione took the bottle out of her hand and took another drink, then passed it back.

“Of course, I usually like following rules. But sometimes rules are stupid, and you have to break them.” She didn’t want to think about all the rules she broke to modify her parents’ memories. 

Millicent spat out the drink she’d just taken. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe this is really you. I can’t believe that little Miss Brightest Witch would ever do any of those things.”

Hermione leveled her with a hard stare. “You don’t know me at all, Millicent. Yet you seem to despise me. Why?”

The other witch squirmed slightly, avoiding meeting Hermione’s eye. 

When she didn’t respond, Hermione spoke. “Even Draco Malfoy has decided I’m not the scum of the earth, bent on ruining his life by existing. As for you, other than our tussle in second year, I don’t recall any specific run-ins between us. Yet from the very first day back, you’ve had it in for me.”

“It’s funny how you think I’ve only been targeting you,” Millicent said derisively. “You haven’t noticed how I don’t talk to anyone?”

“I have, actually. Forgive me if I thought you harbored an especial loathing for me, as a muggle-born, specifically. I suppose I’m relieved to hear that you’re an equal opportunity hater.”

Millicent laughed again, though she tried to stop herself quickly. “What is it with you? Yeah, even Malfoy likes you now. How’d that happen?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You put a spell on him?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course not. He just decided to grow up and not continue being an arse all the time. It turns out we have a lot in common, and once he condescended to speak to me, he realized it. We both did.”

They were silent for a long while. Millicent kept taking occasional swallows of the fiery liquid, offering the bottle to Hermione every now and then. It felt as though some of the ice might be thawing between them, which she only saw as a good thing for their working relationship within the group. 

Just when Hermione was beginning to think nothing more would come from their time together, Millicent cleared her throat. 

“My Dad killed my Mum. In front of me and my little sister.”

Hermione didn’t react, merely turned all of her focus on Millicent. 

“It happened in the middle of last year. I was home for the Christmas holidays.” She scoffed. “Mum wanted to take my little sister—she was only eight—away, out of England. My father is… not a nice man. He’s a raving lunatic at the best of times, the perfect sort of person the Dark Lord would want on his side. Only he wasn’t ever smart enough to be considered too useful. But he was… enthusiastic.” Millicent shuddered at some memory. 

“When Mum tried to take her—Sarah, my sister—Dad lost his mind. They fought, and then he pulled his wand on her. Screamed that she couldn’t take her away, that there was nowhere they could hide where he wouldn’t find her. My mother stood up to him for the first time in my life, and he killed her for it. I was ready, though. I grabbed Sarah and Apparated to Pansy’s house. I stayed with her for the rest of the holiday, and Pansy’s parents kept Sarah when I had to go back to Hogwarts. My father continued serving the Dark Lord like nothing had happened. Thankfully, once the war was over, he was arrested. I testified at his trial, and he was locked away in Azkaban, hopefully never to be free again.”

Hermione’s heart ached at Millicent’s story. “I was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange over Easter holidays last year. The only reason she didn’t kill me was because Harry and Ron rescued me.”

A peaceful silence descended. “Bottle’s empty.” Millicent turned it upside down, frowning as only a single drop fell from the opening. 

“Probably for the best.” Hermione took the bottle and Transfigured it into a glass. Then she pulled out a water bottle and poured Millicent a full serving. “Here. Might as well get started on that hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.”

Millicent groaned, sinking deeper onto the floor. “I don’t even care. Not about school, or about what happens to me, I just… what’s the point of any of it? I’ve got nothing to look forward to, no hope—”

“Where’s Sarah?”

“What?”

“Your sister. Where is she?”

“Pansy’s parents were given legal guardianship over her when my father was arrested. She’s there now.”

“There’s your hope, Millicent. She needs you. She needs you to finish school, get a job, and be her sister. Be her family.” Hermione found a bar of chocolate in her bag, as well as a Sober-Up potion. First she gave Millicent the chocolate. “And you’re not alone here. You’ve got Pansy. I bet you’ve got all of your Slytherin friends, if you wanted them. I know Draco doesn’t hate you. And… you’ve got me. I’ll be your friend, if you like.”

Millicent looked at her warily. “Oh yeah? Why?”

Hermione shrugged. “Because why not?”

* * *

“And from that day on, we were friends.”

“Just like that?” Rose asked, incredulous.

Hermione smiled. “Just like that. We’re still friends even today.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “Ooh, so if I could figure out who Tina is, I could figure out who Luke is!”

“Nice try, darling. I’ve got a lot of friends.” Hermione watched as Rose yawned. “I’m going to go and check on something. I’ll be back in a few minutes, all right?”

Rose nodded sleepily, her head on her pillow. 

Hermione left the room and went into the kitchen. There really wasn’t anything pressing she needed to do, she just knew that Rose was likely ready for bed. If she left her alone long enough, she’d fall asleep quickly. After finishing up the dishes, she wiped down the counters and went to straighten the sofa. They’d pulled out blankets and pillows, so she folded them and put them away. 

She went to check on her daughter, and as she’d expected, Rose was fast asleep. Hermione quietly covered her with her blanket, turned off the light, and left the room. 

She poured herself half a glass of wine and sat down to think. She accidentally sat on the book she’d gotten out earlier, though, and smiled as she ran her hand over the cover. This wasn’t the book; she still had yet to find it, though she looked every time she saw a used book store. At this point, so many years after the fact, it was more of a fun, nostalgic activity than anything she really believed would happen. 

This one had an inscription:

For My Dearest Molly –  
The Jane to my Bingley.  
– Love Always, Your Richard.

It was one of her favorite inscriptions, and Hermione had quite a few. Three whole shelves in her library were occupied by various copies of Pride and Prejudice, and all of them had messages inside. She’d inadvertently started a collection during her eighth year by buying used copies that people had written in, and after leaving school, she continued with it. Anytime she came across one, she bought it. It was impractical, but she loved reading the little notes and love letters left by people over the many years since the book was first published.

In her mind, she could clearly see the message her mother had written her, but she couldn’t make out the words. She knew she could have used a Pensieve any time to reread it, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to wait until she opened a book, saw the press of the blue fountain pen her mother had used, and read the words through her tears. 

She replaced the book and turned off the lights. That night, as she lay in bed, her thoughts turned to Draco. She wondered what he was doing tonight. Was he with his wife? Was he married? Did he end up marrying Astoria Greengrass after all, as had been his mother’s fervent wish? Did he have a family of his own? Why were her thoughts focused on him, more than anyone else in her past? It had to be because she’d just spent hours talking about him, telling Rose about her friendship with him. 

Next she’d be diving into the whirlwind romance that was her relationship with Cassius. She would probably find herself wondering about him after that, though that connection had never touched her heart and soul in the same way that Draco did. Most of all, she hoped Rose wasn’t disappointed to find out that her father was Ron, the “boyfriend at the beginning of the story.”

But that was silly; Rose adored Ron. Ron was an excellent father. Hermione only wished she had realized they weren’t a good match much sooner in her life. For so many years, she simply went forward, allowing the forces around her to keep her going. Rose had just turned eight when Hermione woke up one morning and realized she had no idea who she was anymore. She’d lost herself with Ron, and it wasn’t until she admitted that she didn’t love him the way she should that she’d been able to start the journey of rediscovering who she was, who she wanted to be. 

He’d been understandably devastated, but at the same time, he knew it, too. They were both happier now that they were separated, and the final step was for her to sign the papers. 

Hermione sat up. 

The papers. 

She threw off the covers and rushed to the kitchen where she’d left her bag. It wasn’t that she was afraid they were missing; she just didn’t want to forget. Her plan was to drop them off with the lawyer after taking Rose to school. Then she’d visit Millie and have a good cry—not sad over the end of her marriage to Ron, but sad that she’d be single once again, no longer part of an “us.” It had been a very long time since that had been the case. 

Hermione found a quill and a bottle of ink, wet the tip of the quill, and signed her name. She did it without hesitation, signing clearly and carefully everywhere she needed to. Tomorrow when she left the papers with the lawyer, it would be done. Complete. No more Hermione Granger-Weasley; she’d just be Granger once more.

A smile found its way to her lips at the thought; whenever she said her surname in her mind, it always came out in Draco’s lazy drawl. Maybe she’d ask him out for coffee, find out what he was up to. If nothing else, she wanted to hear him say her name again, the hard way he ground out the first syllable, the way the second one seemed to float off his lips. 

Well. She wouldn’t make any rash decisions tonight. Hermione tucked the papers into her bag once more and returned to bed.

She quickly fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she knew immediately that something was off. It took her mind a few seconds to clear and realize the problem: there was too much light in the room.

A glance at the clock confirmed it. They were behind—unsurprising, considering how late they'd stayed up.

She jumped out of bed and hurried to Rose's room. "Rose, time to get up!" Flinging open the curtains, she bustled around the room, locating anything she thought her daughter might need for the day. "Rose!"

"Mummy?" Rose sat up and rubbed her eyes, her hair a tangled mess. "What?"

"We should have left for school half an hour ago." Hermione tossed a few items of clothing on the bed. "I need you to get dressed quickly; we'll grab breakfast out and then I'll Apparate us."

Fifteen minutes later, they were walking out the door, Hermione feeling harried as she walked quickly to the corner cafe, a guiding hand on Rose's back. Rose had taken it all in stride and was in a good mood despite her short night.

"So what happened next?" Rose grinned up at her mother while they stood in line for croissants.

"What?" Hermione was scrounging in her beaded bag, looking for her wallet.

"For you. After Hogwarts. You and Mark were broken up and things with Luke tanked quickly. So what was next?" She tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Please, Mum?"

Hermione glanced at Rose in amusement, but it was their turn to order. Once they had their breakfast, Rose munching as they walked, she took her daughter's hand and led her into a narrow alley. "Darling, we can't continue the story right now. You're late for school."

"Tonight, then? Please?"

"Yes, we can continue tonight. But let's hurry! Are you ready? Take my arm. In three, two, one."

* * *

"So it's done, then?"

Hermione smiled tiredly as Millicent wrapped her in a hug. "It's done."

"Get in here, Granger." Millie released her and held the door open wide.

Hermione followed her to the kitchen and sat down on a bar stool while her friend searched for something in the pantry. "I just came from dropping off the papers. I feel... strangely fine."

"Fine?" Millie scrunched up her nose. "Is that normal?"

"I don't know!" She chuckled lightly, holding up her hands, palms up, then dropping them back onto the countertop. "I expected to feel something, and I suppose if pressed, it feels like I can breathe again. Like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I thought I'd spend the day in bed, crying."

"So you can breathe now? That's good. I'm really glad you came. I've got just the thing. Bought it especially for today." Millie set two low glasses on the counter, followed by a bottle of firewhiskey.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she fought a smile at the sight of the drink that had started them on the road to friendship. "Millie! It's not even ten in the morning!"

Millie smirked. "It's not every day you get divorced, either. One drink. To celebrate."

"All right. One drink." They clinked their glasses in a toast, liquor sloshing up the side before Hermione tossed back the potent beverage, grimacing slightly as it went down.

They were silent, digesting the burn, and Hermione fought to muffle a yawn. "I'm sorry. Rose and I had a late night."

"Everything alright?" Millicent peered at her with concern.

"Oh yes. We watched a film, and then Rose started asking questions about Ron." She briefly examined the bottom of her glass, gaze following the remnants of their celebration as she rolled it around. "How we fell in love."

"That's… quite the story."

"I know. We didn't get very far last night, and she was up hours past her bedtime. It was after _my_ bedtime, too. I have a feeling it's going to be a long week; she's already asked me about it this morning. There's no way I can avoid telling her everything. Well, obviously not everything. I left out some of the more explicit details. And she doesn't know who anybody is. Maybe that's why she's so invested; she's trying to figure out who her father is in the story."

Millie put the kettle on. "How far did you get?"

"Eighth year." Hermione cringed at the casually forced way it sounded.

"Ahh. As I recall, there wasn't a lot to tell. You were with Ron for most of it, he kissed someone else, then you broke up with him." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Or perhaps I missed something?"

Hermione quickly looked away. She and Millicent hadn't formed their deep friendship until after Hogwarts, so she had never told her friend what had happened with Draco.

"That means yes! Come on, spill." Millie set the kettle and tea things between them. "Did something happen while you were with Ron? After? Oh, I'm sure it was after; it's not like you to be unfaithful."

She groaned. "It's really embarrassing, Millie."

"I've got a ready supply of Veritaserum at hand, and I'm not afraid to use it." Millie produced a small vial from a kitchen cabinet. "So just drop the dramatics and tell me."

"That potion is highly regulated by the Ministry, you know." Hermione wasn't the least bit surprised at either her friend's threat—those happened often enough—or the fact that she had the potion. She was, however, amused by the fact that she kept it in her kitchen, as though it was something she used often.

Millie smiled smugly. "I'm close to the Hogwarts Potions Master, and he's just up the road a little ways. He's always willing to help me out in a pinch."

Hermione ducked her head as she felt her cheeks get warm. "The, um, answer just so happens to involve that same Potions Master." When Millie didn't make a sound, she looked up to find her friend gaping at her.

"Ex _cuse_ me? What, _exactly_ , involves Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione sighed and, after securing a magical vow of secrecy from Millie, told her an abbreviated version of what had happened between her and Draco in eighth year. Unlike with Rose, however, Hermione told the full truth, how she'd wanted to sleep with him, and humiliation burned in the back of her throat at the confession.

When she finished, Millie poured herself a finger of whiskey and downed it in one swallow. "You and Malfoy? I... I mean, I'm not surprised, exactly; you two were super close and then… nothing. Granted, we all noticed the sudden change between you. I assumed it was you grieving the loss of Ron and Draco being... well, an insensitive prat, honestly. But I also can't believe you two nearly slept together! How come you never told me?"

"Oh, Millie, weren't you listening?" Hermione felt her cheeks flush with fresh shame and hid her face in her hands. "He turned me down! He didn't want… any of it! I was so humiliated, I could barely look at him after that. I didn't know how to be friends with him anymore. How do you get past one person throwing themselves at the other, who then rejects them? It wasn't something I wanted to remember, much less talk about!"

Millie stared at her with a strange mix of expressions—something akin to disbelief and skepticism—then shook her head. "Alright. Assuming you were right, I can understand why you wouldn't say anything. Plus, our friendship was still new then. Did you confide in anyone else?"

"No." Hermione shook her head vehemently. "Merlin, no. I felt awful."

"I always wondered what happened with you two. I never imagined you two kissed." Millie looked thoughtful. "It makes sense, though. That's the kind of thing that can come between friends."

Hermione nodded, trying to banish thoughts of kissing Draco. "Speaking of the Potions Master, how are things up at the school? How's Neville?"

Neville's relationship with Millicent Bulstrode had shocked everyone, but they were absolutely suited for each other. Neville softened Millie, and she reminded him daily that he was a badass. They worked beautifully.

Millie beamed. "They're wonderful. Nev loves his job, as you know. The kids are doing well, thriving. They miss you, of course. Can't get enough of you. Willow had her first bout of accidental magic the other day. I thought Nev was going to cry. A full two years younger than he was when his Great Uncle dropped him out of that window. You know how worried he was."

"I remember, of course." Hermione smiled at the memory.

Neville worked under Professor Sprout, apprenticing in Herbology. He taught the first and second year students, and he would slowly work his way to replacing Sprout when she retired. He and Millie lived in Hogsmeade and had three children so far, ages seven, five, and two and a half. The oldest two went to a little school in the village for residents; the toddler, still too young to attend, stayed at home with her mother. Millie, in another shocking twist, was a lot like Molly Weasley. She loved everything about being a wife and mother—though she was much more acerbic than Molly. Hermione expected another pregnancy announcement any day now.

They talked about the kids, her work, played with Willow when she woke up from her nap, and passed the morning very pleasantly.

"How does it feel to have the whole week off?" Millie asked after they'd exhausted the topic of which carrier Hermione should purchase if she ever needed one. This hadn't taken long because, thankfully, Hermione wasn't in the market, but she listened attentively as Millie couldn't stop listing the benefits of the one she used for Willow. "Was your boss shocked that you requested it?"

"I think in some ways, yes, but in other ways no. My whole relationship with Ron has been very public from the start." She shrugged. "Everybody knows what's going on. So while he might have been initially startled that I'd request time off, it didn't take him long to grant the request."

"And what do you plan to do with your time?"

"Honestly?" She paused to think. "I suppose it feels a little strange, not going to work. I wanted the week off in case I needed the time to process, but... I feel fine. I mean, it's only Monday, I only just delivered the final paperwork, but I've got a few things loosely planned for this week. I didn't want to over-schedule or commit to anything, out of an abundance of caution. I'd love to spend the week catching up with friends, though."

"It'll hit later. I know you've been ready for months, that you've prepared and grieved, but now it's final. There's no going back. No more Granger-Weasley for you." Millie gave her a pointed but sympathetic look, then glanced at a clock on the wall when Willow started to whine about a toy she couldn't find. "It's about lunch time. Why don't I make us something to chase that Firewhiskey? Then we can go for a walk around the village after."

Hermione nodded eagerly; Millie was an excellent cook, and her children liked to eat all kinds of delicious things. Millie didn't ask any more questions. The divorce was a major step towards healing, but if pressed, the wound could still bleed. There was plenty in the situation to hurt about.

While Millie bustled around the kitchen, Hermione kept an eye on Willow, who was, for the moment, content to sit and play with blocks. Or, more accurately, knock down the structures Hermione built for her. As the smell of Millie's cooking filled the room, she thought briefly of meals eaten in Hogsmeade as an eighth year student, when her class was allowed to leave the grounds for lunch. Hogsmeade's business benefited greatly that year.

"What are you doing tonight?" Millie asked as she chopped ingredients, drawing Hermione out of her thoughts. "You can't be alone. I don't care how fine you say you are."

"Oh, I won't be. I've got Rose, of course." She felt the slightest quiver in her voice but hoped Millie hadn't noticed.

"Good. I suppose she'll want to hear more of the story, then? What happens next in the path to meeting Ron at the altar? Want to help with something?" Millie directed Hermione to some spices she needed measured and mixed.

Hermione made her way down the list of spices, taking the same care with them as she had in potions. "Well, the next big stop was Cassius, but Millie, I don't know how I'm supposed to tell Rose about _him_." She still blushed at some of her memories and adventures with him.

Another tower toppled causing a large crash behind them. Millie glanced over her shoulder, not skipping a beat in her preparations as she mumbled that Willow was fine. "Why, because it was mostly sexual?" Millie pointed at Hermione with her chef's knife for a moment. "You deserved every single one of those shags. After everything with Ron and then that dry spell—with, you know, an exception here and there—I was thrilled that you were getting so much action. He was good for you, too. Obviously not long-term, but you came away from that wildfire of a relationship feeling so good about yourself. After that, you really owned how hot you were. You weren't content with mediocre anymore, and that's as it should be. Of course, I don't know that Weasley ever made you scream the way Cassius did. But we all know you didn't marry him for his prowess in bed. I say that as a friend, of course."

"Of course." Hermione chuckled. "No, I married Ron because I thought he was the best fit for marriage. And sex with him was always fine. He was very considerate and made sure I had a nice time."

Millie rolled her eyes. "In other words, vanilla. When you talk to Rose, don't get caught up in _that_ side of your relationship. Tell her about the different places you two went and how you gained confidence in yourself because, even though he wasn't right for you, he let you be yourself."

Hermione smiled warmly at her friend. "You're absolutely right, Millie."

"All right, moving on. After Cassius, there's Viktor, and then Ron again."

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "And even though it's over with Ron, I can't bring myself to regret it. I have Rose, after all, and she is _everything_. She's made all of it worth it, even the really hard parts. I'm so lucky to be her mum." Hermione felt tears prick her eyes, but she refused to cry here and now.

Millie reached over and gave her arm a quick squeeze, for which Hermione was grateful. "I want to hear how Rose likes the story." Her eyes suddenly went wide, and she froze mid-chop. "Wait. Tell me there's more instances of kissing Draco to come. I know you two were in and out of each other's lives for a bit there."

Hermione chuckled, casually drying her eyes. "No, that ship sailed in eighth."

Millie arched an eyebrow and finished her chopping. "Uh huh. He's single, you know."

"Stop, Millie." Hermione finished with the spices and pushed the bowl over to her. "I just turned in my divorce papers this morning. Are you trying to set me up already?" The very idea was absurd.

"With a famously single, extremely good looking, bloody intelligent wizard? Why on Earth would I do that?" Millie rolled her eyes dramatically and started the heat under a pan.

"It's too soon." Hermione's heart started racing at the thought of Draco nonetheless. Perhaps reliving her memories of their friendship in school was affecting her this way. Maybe she'd get palpitations over thoughts of Cassius as well after tonight. Wiping her hands dry, she went back to check on Willow, who was playing near the kitchen.

"Well, whenever you're ready, let me know." Millie gave her a pointed look. "He and Neville have a good relationship, you know. Even though Neville was cautious when he joined the staff. Poor guy. Malfoy's ghost lingered."

"Draco was a little prat and horrible to Neville before 8th year." Hermione sniffed indignantly. "And while eighth was much better, Draco didn't have much to say to him."

"I know. Draco dropped the pompous arse routine and instead took up the silent, brooding banner. Whenever he spoke to Neville, it was always with an air of impatient tolerance. By the end, they had formed a sort of peaceful coexistence, but that was the most it ever was. When Draco arrived to teach, he went out of his way to befriend Neville. Now they're close. Why am I telling you this? You know it already." Millie waved her hand, then gave Hermione a calculating look. " He joins us for dinner on the weekend sometimes, as you well know."

Hermione smiled at the mental image of Draco sitting at the table with the Longbottom family. She'd seen him plenty of times with the Weasley clan over the years, which had occasionally included Neville, but it had been awhile. She'd never seen him around Willow. "Does Oren still think he's the best thing ever?"

Millie chuckled. "Of course. Oren thinks he hung the moon. Wants to be just like him when he grows up." Millie put out the fire under her pan and gave her creation one last, good stir.

"That smells amazing, Millie." Hermione's stomach rumbled, much to her amusement. "I'm not surprised that your children adore him. He's the favorite whenever he shows up at the Burrow."

"Oh, but surely he can't have the same connection with one of that lot as he does with Oren. You should see Draco with him." Millie smiled wistfully a moment, then her eyes widened briefly before taking on a look Hermione knew only too well.

"Millie." She spoke with a warning in her tone. "What did you think just then? What's going through your mind right now?"

Millie gave her an innocently devious smile. "Oh, nothing. Surely nothing that involves a dinner for four. Where you can see him with Oren. "

"Oh no! Please don't. That would be… too uncomfortable." Hermione shook her head in horror at the thought.

"Why? You're friends with him, aren't you? Nothing like you once were, of course." She grinned. "What's the harm in having dinner with us?"

Hermione gave her a withering look. "Well, yes, we are, I mean, in a way—but having both of us over for dinner would be extremely obvious. I don't want that." Or did she?

Millie studied her for a long moment. "All right. Not this week, anyway. You are going to feel this divorce, so I won't press you. Yet."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly. The ink is barely dry on the parchment, and you're trying to set me up. I may feel fine, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to launch out of the starting gate and back into the world of dating."

"But he's not just _anyone_. It's _Draco_. You kissed him once; you can do it again. Those feelings didn't just disappear into thin air." Millie pulled down some plates and pointed towards a drawer. "Grab some flatware, will you? I'll get drinks—wine, of course—while you set the table."

Hermione took the dishes and set to work. "You're forgetting that he stopped kissing me that night. He practically ran from the room afterwards, clearly desperate to get away. Besides, it's been over ten years. Ten! And so much has happened in that time. What makes you think he'd be interested now?" She really needed to stop thinking about him so much.

Millie dismissed her concern with a wave after setting the main dish on the table. "He's an older, wiser Draco. He'll make the right choice this time."

Hermione cleared her throat and changed the subject as they sat down to eat. Millie got the hint and played along, letting the conversation drift over a range of topics. But as they talked of other things, her mind kept wandering towards a certain blond former schoolmate. She was beginning to think it was dangerous to think too much about Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Rose managed to wait all of seven seconds after being picked up from primary before mentioning the story once again.

"I'm ready, Mum. I've been thinking about it all day, and I've recopied my notes. I'm ready to hear more about you and my father." Her expression was completely sincere and expectant as she danced from foot to foot.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, Rose, it will probably have to wait until after dinner. We've got a full afternoon ahead, and I don't think we should be up as late as last night."

"All right. I _was_ really tired today." Rose spoke very sagely, causing Hermione's heart to swell for a moment. "But we have to start immediately because I don't want to miss anything."

"I'll tell you the whole story, but it may just take a few days." She smiled warmly at her child who was so like her in her thirst for information. "Now, our destination is Diagon Alley. Anywhere you want to go while we're there?"

Rose's eyes lit up. "Flourish and Blotts! But I'm guessing you're already planning to stop there."

"You know me so well. Come on."

At dinner, Rose went through her daily ritual of sharing everything about her day, though she hurried through the telling and wasn't nearly as detailed as she normally was. Since she finished pretty quickly, Hermione decided to begin her story during dinner. She poured herself another drink and settled herself mentally for sharing more.

"You remember I told you that the next time I saw Luke, I was dating someone?"

Rose nodded and glanced at her notes. "Yes. Joey, you said."

"That's right. Joey." She smiled at the memory of him, his thick, dark hair, his mesmerizing eyes. "We met at a party thrown by a mutual friend about a year after I finished at school. I knew Joey from Hogwarts—"

"Of course." Rose rolled her eyes.

"But we weren't exactly friends. I can recall two interactions with him in the few years we were there together. He was older, and he was in Slytherin, so even if I'd wanted to be his friend then, he'd never have given me the chance."

"It's ridiculous, the animosity between the houses. Everyone should just be friends." Rose spoke with conviction.

Hermione laughed. "That's easy for you to say. Wait until you're there in a few months. You'll feel very differently about it, I'm sure."

"So you met Joey at a party."

"Yes. My friend Misty threw a big party at her house. She loved throwing parties, and any excuse would do. This party was to celebrate the start of summer, I think, or maybe a breakup with a boyfriend, I can't remember. Whatever it was, the reason was merely a pretense to have a party. I only went because some friends dragged me along."

* * *

"Don't look now." Ginny ignored her own comment and stared blatantly toward the door. "You will never guess who just walked in."

Everyone looked. Hermione could almost make out a tall man with dark brown hair and sunglasses surrounded by a horde of people. There were a fair number of squeals and gasps, but she had no clue who it was.

"That's Cassius Warrington!" Ginny told them. "He's only the most famous Quidditch player in England right now. He's also really fit." She regarded him appreciatively whenever she caught a glimpse.

Luna, Millicent, and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Is Blaise here?" Luna asked.

Ginny didn't take her eyes off Cassius. "No. He's in Italy. With Malfoy."

Hermione let out a deep breath. She'd been wanting to know if Draco would be making an appearance, and now that she knew he wasn't, she could relax. She hadn't seen him much since school ended, and they still had never talked. They probably never would.

Luna elbowed Ginny. "Are you two still...together?"

"At the moment? No." Ginny craned her neck, looking for someone. "Bugger. I've lost sight of him." She turned around and waggled her eyebrows. "Oh well. I'd love to talk with him, if you know what I mean."

Millie gave her a sharp look. "What about Blaise?"

"Listen, Blaise wanted to go to Italy with Malfoy for three months, no strings attached. I said fine. I'm not sure he realized that meant I would also be unattached. When he returns, we'll see what he has to say. In the meantime, I'm certainly allowed to look." Ginny and Blaise had been dating off and on since Hogwarts. Their relationship was unconventional but it seemed to suit them.

"Granger needs to get laid more than you, Gin. Leave Warrington for her." Millie was always looking out for Hermione's interests.

"Thank you, but I highly doubt a renowned Quidditch player is going to notice me out in this giant crowd. Speaking of, have any of you seen Pansy? I want to ask her something." Hermione craned her neck, looking for the elusive hostess.

Luna pointed across the wide room. "She's there."

"Thanks." Hermione made her way across the large room headed toward Pansy. The Parkinson estate was one of the biggest in the country, and Pansy loved filling it with people. The party was taking place in the main ballroom, and she had it decorated like a club. There were cozy booths all around the perimeter and a large dance floor in the middle. The music was loud and the main lights were low, making room for the flashing lights all around.

By the time Hermione reached the door where she had seen Pansy, the other witch was gone. Flustered, she turned to look again and found herself face to face with none other than Cassius Warrington. A gaggle of scantily dressed women were huddled around him, yet he seemed genuinely surprised to meet her gaze and oblivious to anyone else.

"I'm so sorry," she said, trying to get out of his way.

"No, it's my fault," he said immediately. "Were you looking for someone?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Pansy; she was just here a minute ago."

Cassius pointed a few doors down. "I think I just saw her go through there."

Hermione gave him a polite smile. "Thank you."

"Wait!" he called when she'd taken a few steps away. "What's your name?"

Hermione told him over her shoulder, and she kept walking, not stopping to ask for his.

About an hour later, Hermione was dancing with her friends. She'd had a few drinks and was just really enjoying herself. A few men had tried to dance with her, but she had told them politely that she wasn't interested that night, much to Millicent's chagrin.

"Granger, that's the fifth bloke you've turned away tonight," she said with a scowl. "I'm serious; I want you to go home with someone!"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm just not interested, Millie. I haven't found anybody I want to go home with." Not to mention the fact that she'd never been interested in meaningless one-offs. She preferred to know the bloke, and she enjoyed the intimacy of really knowing someone when things got intimate. Not that she'd had a lot of experience.

Ginny, Luna, and Millie were all dancing around her when suddenly Ginny froze, eyes wide. Luna stopped to see what was the matter, and then she clapped her hands, eyes sparkling.

Hermione spun around to see what had caught their attention just in time to nearly run into none other than Cassius Warrington.

"Hello ladies." He briefly flashed his dazzling smile at her friends. "Hi there, Hermione." He held out his hand. "My name is Cassius. We didn't have the chance to formally meet earlier."

She could feel the eyes of her friends on her, and she knew that Millie was silently encouraging her. Now that he was close, Hermione saw exactly why everyone was fawning all over him. Cassius was extremely good-looking, and she could tell he was lean and strong. His fame surely had a lot to do with it, but he had a natural, boyish charm to him that was endearing. But she was also instantly suspicious that such a well-known and stunningly handsome man was talking to her out of the blue.

She gave him a wry smile. "Hello, Cassius. It's nice to meet you."

He flashed a grin, a move she felt sure usually made women swoon. "Care to dance?"

"No thanks, I'm here with my friends." Hermione tried to escape into her group of friends.

Millicent grabbed her arm as she tried to move away, holding her firmly in place. "Yes, Cassius, she will dance." And she shoved Hermione into him so hard she stumbled.

He caught her easily, winking at Millie. "Thanks."

In the blink of an eye, Hermione's friends melted into the crowd, leaving her alone with Cassius, who, despite being highly sought after, was conspicuously alone. "So who put you up to this?"

"What do you mean?" He chuckled uncomfortably, eyes widening.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I _mean_ , who sent you over here to dance with me?"

Cassius ran a hand through his hair. "Um, nobody? I've been watching you since the first time I saw you. I've been trying to talk to you all night."

She laughed out loud, doubled over in the middle of the dance floor. "Oh, wow! Does that line usually work?"

He grinned sheepishly, his cheeks reddening at the top. "Er, it's not really a line."

Hermione shook her head, still grinning. "Well, nice try. But I'm not interested."

"Okay…" He stretched the word out, clearly unsure of himself in this situation where a woman didn't automatically fall into his arms. "That's fine. Why don't we just dance?"

"I don't know…" She could feel the eyes of all her friends boring into her; even though she couldn't see them, she knew they were watching. If she walked away from him now, they'd never give her peace. "One dance." She gave him her most patronizing smile and sighed impatiently.

Twenty minutes later, they were stumbling into his flat.

Ten minutes after that, she came undone under his very skillful attention.

After another full hour, she was exhausted and thoroughly sated. Cassius slumped onto the bed beside her, and neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

Then Hermione started laughing hysterically.

"What?" Cassius lifted his head to look at her, bewildered.

When her mirth subsided, she sighed. "Oh, I am not this sort of girl! I'm not the girl who goes home with a stranger!"

He grinned. "And yet, you did."

She covered her face, shame sinking in now that her brain was functioning again. "I can't believe I did this."

"Hey, it's okay, you know. It's—"

"No. I mean, why me? Or if all those women there tonight, why did you pick me? I'm not the girl that the roguishly handsome, famous Quidditch star takes home. Not unless it's a joke."

Cassius frowned. "It's no joke, Hermione. Believe it or not, I don't usually do this either."

She snorted and sat up, drawing the sheet tightly around her as she began searching for her clothes. "You don't need to lie to try and make me feel better or anything. I'm a big girl. I can admit that I fell for your schtick."

"It's no schtick! I swear! I… please, stay the night."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Oh very funny." She pulled on her trousers, then rounded on him. "No! You know what? I take it back. I didn't fall for your games; I got exactly what _I_ wanted. No regrets. But don't worry. I'm not going to go running to the nearest gossip rag."

"Hermione, I'm serious." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, an earnest look on his face. "Please, I want you to stay. I'd like to see you tomorrow."

"Very funny." She was now completely dressed after tugging on her shirt. "Cassius Warrington, this was fun. Good luck with the Quidditch."

Then without waiting for a reply, she left.

* * *

"Did you have fun playing the board game with him?" Rose's expression was earnest, her quill poised above her notes.

Hermione nodded, trying not to blush. "I... Yes. It was a fun evening."

Rose frowned. "You mentioned Luke, though. That the next time you saw him, you were with Joey. But Luke wasn't there, and you told Joey you weren't interested in playing more games."

"Ah. Well, Joey showed up at my work about a week later." Hermione smiled, remembering how surprised she'd been to see him walk into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"He did?" Rose squealed. "That's so romantic!"

"I wasn't terribly amused at the time. Everyone knew who he was, and they were all wildly curious to see what he was doing there. There was even a small trail of witches who'd followed him."

"Was he _that_ famous?" She made a face.

"Yes, he was. He was carrying a small bouquet of flowers he'd picked from a field, and I think it was that, more than anything, that led me to agree to a date."

Rose sighed happily. "Did he make you _incandescently_ happy, Mum?"

Hermione chuckled. "He was exciting. I had a lot of fun with him. That relationship was fast and wild. He liked to show up and whisk me off somewhere without giving me any warning."

A startled look formed on Rose's face. "Oh, Mum. I know how much you like to plan for things."

"Yes, exactly right. Sometimes I really struggled to enjoy those outings because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't always relax enough to go with the flow." She smiled again. Cassius's favorite method of calming her down was to shag, a talent at which he excelled perhaps even more than Quidditch. "But we did make some memories along the way "

"What about Luke?"

"What about him?"

Rose crossed her arms. "I want to hear about him!"

Hermione surveyed the empty plates and cups and the table. "Tell you what. Let's clean this up, and then I can tell you about seeing Luke."

"Okay!" She bounded from her seat and began catering things to the sink. "It's just, I think there's more to it than that."

"More than what?"

"Seeing him while you were with Joey." Rose wiped the excess food from the dishes and set them in the sink.

Hermione wasn't sure what to think. She didn't want Rose to get her hopes stuck on Luke—er, Draco—because he wasn't her father. It might be a disappointment once the truth was revealed.

"I don't think so, but I'm happy to tell you all about it. Get ready for bed—teeth and pajamas—and I'll meet you on the sofa!" After using the loo, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her breath caught, something akin to panic spiking in her gut, and she gasped slightly, bringing her hand to her stomach. Millie might have been right—tonight would be much harder than she'd imagined. After splashing some water on her face and forcing herself to take deep breaths, she felt calm again. At least calm enough to face her overly inquisitive child.

Rose was waiting when she arrived, legs drawn up on the cushion and snuggled under her favorite blanket. "I'm ready."

"Let me remember now. I'd been with Joey for about three months. No one could believe it, and everybody had something to say about it."

* * *

"I still can't believe you snagged Cassius Warrington."

Pansy's arm was looped through Hermione's as they climbed the stands toward their seats for the match.

"At my party, no less. I feel like I should get a footnote in your wedding announcement."

Hermione laughed. "Oh, I think that's quite getting ahead of things, don't you? It's only been a few months."

"I really don't know how you did it. That man was practically salivating when he begged me to tell him how to contact you. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I told him to owl, but he said no, he had to see you. Here we are."

They'd arrived at their seats—the best in the stadium thanks to Cassius. There were a few other people there already, and Hermione was glad to have Pansy with her. Sitting alone, which she'd done once, was no fun at all.

She was about to say something when Pansy squealed and released Hermione. She watched her friend dash across the small area and fling her arms around someone. It was hard to tell who it was until he moved, exposing a shock of white blond hair.

Her stomach did a strange somersault when Draco's eyes found hers seconds later. Pansy was pointing before they both headed her way.

Hermione's heart started thundering in her chest, and her breath hitched as she took a moment to look him over. He'd cut his hair since Hogwarts; it no longer hung to his shoulders, instead falling to his chin. He looked older, more filled out, but his smile was the same—just as captivating as it had been in their final year.

Pansy had her arm in his now, talking nonstop while they walked. But Draco seemed not to hear a word, his gaze focused solely on Hermione.

"Look who I found!" Pansy hopped a little in her excitement.

"I see. Hello, Draco."

"Granger." His tone, the rough way the first syllable of her name split his lips, still gave her goosebumps. "What brings you two here?"

Pansy didn't give Hermione a chance to respond. "Granger's dating Warrington, and she asked me to join her. But what are you doing here?"

Draco's easy smile faltered for a moment. "What?"

"Cassius." Pansy remarked offhandedly. "You know him, of course. He was a few years ahead of us, played Quidditch."

He shot her a perturbed look. "I know who he is, Pansy; _everyone_ knows. I'm just...surprised."

Hermione felt exposed before his scrutiny, wrapping her arms around herself before responding. "It hasn't been long."

"Is it serious?"

"I—"

"Of course it is. Haven't you seen them all over the papers? He's mad for her." Pansy smiled triumphantly. "I introduced them. Sort of. They met at my party. But you still haven't answered my question! Why are you here? Do you normally come to these matches?"

Draco shook his head and dragged his gaze from Hermione to Pansy. "I'm here with some of my father's clients. He couldn't make it, so he asked me to bring them. I hate these things; they're just going to get drunk and attempt to pick up anyone they see. You two should be careful."

"Will you sit with us?"

He grimaced. "I wish I could. I'd much rather that, than these two." He jabbed his thumb toward two men in the corner, laughing loudly and holding drinks. "Maybe later, if the match is long enough."

Hermione was trying desperately to think of something to say, but her brain was completely blank.

One of his guests called his name, and he smiled sheepishly. "I'd better get back to them. Nice seeing you both." His eyes lingered on Hermione for an extra heartbeat before he walked away.

"Merlin, I miss him." Pansy watched him go. "I barely see him anymore. He's always off traveling for his father. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure the work is fabulous, but the man needs a life. Do you ever see him? I know you two were close in eighth."

"Oh, not at all. I haven't seen him since school ended, actually." In a rush, all of the feelings she'd shoved to the side, all the fond memories of late nights, long talks, and deep connections, the trips they'd taken to books stores, came flooding back. She realized she missed him acutely.

But she didn't think the chances of having that kind of friendship with him again were good at all—they were likely nonexistent.

The match started, and Hermione tried to concentrate. Thirty minutes in, however, Pansy leaned over. "Everything okay? You're really quiet."

"I'm... thinking. Sorry to be such poor company."

Pansy flicked her gaze over to where Draco was tucked between the two clients. "How is it possible you haven't seen him since school? You two were close! I know he considered you a good friend, at the very least. What happened?"

Hermione had no interest in divulging the truth. "We never really talked about life beyond school. I suppose we went our separate ways and... that was that."

"That's ridiculous." Pansy glanced back to Draco and bit her lip but said nothing.

Hermione had a sinking feeling that of all her friends, Pansy would be the one to suspect there had always been something more between her and Draco. She couldn't tell Pansy the truth right now with Draco just across the room. Knowing Pansy, she'd make a scene, and Hermione would probably die of embarrassment. She resolved to be more present for Pansy so as to avoid awkward questions she didn't want to answer.

The match looked as though it would never end. As fabulous as Cassius played, he was a Chaser, and neither Seeker had come close to the Snitch yet. If it lasted too long, Hermione wouldn't get to see him before she had to leave.

As ninety minutes of play elapsed, Hermione began to fidget for a change. What she didn't anticipate was Pansy being the catalyst.

Without a word, her friend stood and went over to where Draco was. Hermione didn't think anything of it, only adjusted in her seat to get more comfortable.

When someone sat down beside her again, she assumed it was Pansy.

"Hi."

She jumped in her seat, hand flying to her chest as her heart raced from shock. She laughed lightly at her reaction. "Draco! You startled me!"

"Pansy said you wanted to talk?" His voice was slightly strained and very business-like.

She glanced toward her friend, who was now chatting with Draco's father's clients. Pansy raised an eyebrow when Hermione caught her eye.

"Oh, um." Her brain decided to vacate again.

Draco chuckled lowly. "I see." He pressed his palms onto his thighs.

After a few minutes of silence—she couldn't think of anything to say; her mind sputtered like the wings of a captured snitch—he nodded towards the field. "You still enjoy Quidditch?"

"Oh yes, very much." She paused. "Sometimes."

He laughed. "I don't suppose you've spent much time studying plays and such."

"No. It's more about the fan experience, joining in to cheer for a team, the sense of camaraderie, the thrill of being part of the ups and downs of your team with those around you..."

"You don't love this box, then."

She glanced around at the encapsulated viewing area, the announcer turned low, the gentle clink of crystal, and the occasional laughter from someone watching. It was more like being at a fine restaurant than an intense sporting event. "Honestly, no. I'd rather be out there with the rest of the crowd. But even if I were, I don't know much about Cassius's team. I have yet to memorize the lineup, if you can believe it."

He gasped in mock surprise. "You mean you don't know their stats by heart?"

"I'm not _that_ kind of a Quidditch fan." She smiled at him though, meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd joined her.

For the briefest of moments, she thought he might mention what had happened between them, but he didn't, instead asking her how she had met Cassius. One thing led to another, and before she knew it, they'd talked for the rest of the match. When Cassius's team's Seeker finally caught the Snitch, the game had gone on for over three hours. She clapped as though at an opera, then stood and stretched.

She glanced around, looking for Pansy, but she was nowhere to be found. Draco's clients were on their own, engrossed in conversation but clapping politely.

Draco also looked at them. "Oh, bugger. I should go over there." He didn't move.

"I'm going to go find Cassius. It's too bad we didn't get to finish our conversation about unfair Hippogriff Laws." She grinned, needling him over what had happened in their third year. "I've got plenty of case studies on the creatures."

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm sure you do. Why don't you write out your thoughts and send them via owl. I'll be sure to make it my top priority."

"Oh, I'm sure you will." She couldn't stop smiling at him. It was so nice to talk to him again, to pick up near where they'd left off, ignoring that the kiss even happened, and it gave her hope that they could be friends again. Hermione heard the crowd beginning to leave, people Disapparating from all over the stadium, sending popping sounds echoing through the air. Soon Cassius would be coming to find her, but she wished she could stay in this moment with Draco just a little longer.

He was already getting to his feet, preparing to rejoin his charges.

"Draco."

He gave her his full attention, hands resting casually in his pockets. "Yes, Granger?"

"I, um, I've really missed you. I'm glad we ran into each other."

For an instant, he looked almost sad, but then it cleared and he smiled. "Me too."

"And I will write about the Hippogriffs."

"I'm sure you will." His eyes were bright, warm, like she remembered from when he'd look at her before, and she felt happier than she'd been in a long time. Then his gaze shifted over her shoulder, a cloud passing over his features.

A strong arm slid around her waist, and Cassius pulled her close, kissing her on the cheek. "There you are. I've been thinking about you for the past, oh, eight minutes?" He seemed to notice Draco then, and his eyes widened, a laugh bursting from him. "Draco Malfoy! I can't believe it! What are you doing here?"

Draco motioned toward the clients. "Here on business for my father. Ran into Granger here. We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"Right, right." Cassius slung an arm over Hermione's shoulder. "Did you enjoy the match?"

"I did. I'm glad I came." Draco's gaze flicked briefly to Hermione. "I've got to get back to my clients, though. It was good seeing you, Warrington."

"It's Cassius!" he called to Draco's back before kissing her again.

"I'm going to shower, and then we're going to celebrate."

"Oh, no, Cass, I can't. I've got to be at work early tomorrow."

He pouted, lower lip sticking out. "But Hermione. I've been thinking about what you said the other night, and we could—"

"There you are."

Pansy reappeared then, to Hermione's great relief. She felt extremely self-conscious at the knowledge that Draco was in the room, and Cassius was about to start snogging her, as he was wont to do. Normally, she just went with it, but for Draco to see… She didn't want him to. It shouldn't matter, but it did.

"Cassius, brilliant game, as always." Pansy linked arms with Hermione. "I'm taking her home with me, though. We've got things to discuss."

Draco called Pansy's name and waved as he left, sending a smaller wave to Hermione and Cassius.

"Bye, Draco! I'll be in touch soon!" Pansy waved enthusiastically, then turned back. "I'll let you two say goodbye." She smirked and walked away.

Cassius immediately pulled her into a searing kiss, regardless of the other people in the box. At least he'd waited. She sighed and let his lips drive every other thought away, even the ones of Draco.

* * *

"That was it?"

"That was it. Sorry to disappoint you, love. I did write to him, though. About Hippogriffs." She still had his letters from that period in her life, in fact, but she didn't divulge that.

"Did he reply?" Rose yawned.

"He did, of course. We wrote to each other for years. Now it's bedtime, darling."

"So what happened with Joey? I know he's not my dad." She held up her notes with Joey's name crossed off. "I think I'd have noticed if my father was a famous Quidditch player."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that was an easy one. Joey and I were simply too different. I had a lot of fun with him, but in the end, we weren't a good fit. His spontaneous and carefree lifestyle got to be overwhelming for me. But many good things came from my relationship with him."

"Like what?" Rose took up her quill again, ready to take notes.

"It's bedtime, my love. Come on, I'll tell you once you're all tucked in." She stood and held out her hand to Rose, who took it without protest. As they headed to Rose's room, Hermione scrambled to think of how to tell Rose about Cassius without mentioning her physical awakening, how she learned to not be ashamed or shy about what she wanted in bed.

By the time Rose was completely snuggled in her bed, she had the words. "Joey taught me a lot about the importance of having fun in a relationship. Of letting go of my plans and embracing the unexpected." She wondered how Cassius was doing. Last she heard, he was still playing Quidditch, married to his third wife and still without any children. She wondered if he was happy.

"Did you have fun with Dad?" Rose pulled the blanket tighter and yawned.

Hermione schooled her expression, keeping it neutral. "I... did. Yes. Plenty of fun. A different kind of fun, but absolutely we had good times together."

But Ron was nothing like Cassius. He never planned adventures or surprised her with something outrageous. Of course, Cassius had been well off from the start, able to whisk her away at a moment's notice. Not that trips around the world were required.

Rose nodded thoughtfully. "So the story ends for today with your breakup with Joey. And you're writing Luke."

Hermione helped her sort out the blankets and pillows. "Actually, the breakup with Joey will come tomorrow because before that happened, I reconnected with someone I hadn't seen in a long time but had first met—"

"At Hogwarts." Rose sighed dramatically. "I know. All roads lead through Hogwarts, don't they? Mum? Do you think I will meet my future husband at Hogwarts?"

"I'd say there's a decent chance of it. But most of the people we know, while they married someone from school, didn't really speak to or interact with their significant other while we were there. Most of the connections happened later." She and Ron were one of the exceptions, though of course they weren't actually together _at_ Hogwarts.

Rose's eyes fluttered shut. "Hmm. Okay. I love you, Mummy. When will I see my Dad again?"

"He's picking you up Friday from school for the weekend."

"At the Burrow?" Her eyes opened, sparkling with excitement.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, dear. You'll get to see all your cousins and aunts and uncles."

"Will you be there?"

Tears suddenly threatened, but she kept smiling anyway. "I'll be there for Sunday dinner, and I'll bring you back with me for the week. But you'll get Daddy and Grandma all to yourself." It would be the first weekend that she attended any function at the Burrow as Hermione Granger in over a decade.

Rose closed her eyes again. "Okay. Goodnight, Mummy."

"Goodnight. I love you, Rose." Hermione kissed her head and left, almost certain that her daughter would be asleep before the light went off.

Hermione went to the kitchen and mechanically started doing the dishes. She thought the mundane activity would help clear her mind, but she wasn't halfway through the task before tears started to fall.

She had to stop and go into the living room, where she sat on the sofa, hugging a pillow to her chest, and sobbed. The brief talk of the Burrow brought home the fact that they were no longer family. The only family she'd had since modifying her parents' memories no longer belonged to her.

She was well and truly alone.

When the tears finally subsided, Hermione decided to leave the dishes and go to bed. She quickly set them to soak, knowing she'd appreciate the task in the morning. It was early for her, but she was tired.

Once in bed, however, sleep eluded her. One thing she realized, as she lay willing sleep to find her, was that she hadn't felt much when talking about Cassius. She'd thought of him fondly, remembered her time with him positively, but it hadn't set her heart to racing.

Maybe it was because she'd had closure with him. There had been a very clear beginning and end, whereas there hadn't been with Draco. Certainly her marriage was an ending of sorts, in that he became off limits, but then again, she'd never been able to fully explore what she'd felt for him.

Of course, he had made it clear that he wasn't interested, so why, upon reflection, did things feel unfinished?

It had to be because her feelings for him had resurfaced upon recall of the regular correspondence they had once maintained following the match. Draco had always been very at ease in his letters, telling her about his relationships and his own adventures. At the time, she'd ignored the way his stories about other women stung, and she'd sometimes skimmed those parts, skipping them completely at other times. She hadn't recognized her feelings for what they were, perhaps unconsciously choosing not to look too closely at them, but she could see now that there were clues.

Finally, when she could avoid it no longer, her thoughts turned to Ron. She wondered where he was, how he was doing. Was he also sad, even though he knew it was for the best? Would they ever be friends like they'd once been?

Hermione replayed the best memories of her life with Ron in her mind. They had years of happiness, and everything involving Rose was an absolute joy. She eventually drifted off to sleep, her eyes completely dry.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Hermione felt awful. She focused on getting Rose to school without any trouble, smile firmly in place until she was alone and could break down.

She managed to get home, crawl into bed, and go back to sleep after a good, long cry.

Hours later, she woke again with a headache, surely a hangover from her earlier crying. Padding to her potions cache, she found her headache potion and took a few drops, sighing with relief as it began to work immediately.

She didn't know why she felt bad; she hadn't been too upset the night before. Yet, as Millicent had predicted, she was finally feeling the full weight of her divorce, even though it was the right thing to do in every way.

It was still a loss.

It still meant huge changes in her life.

It still meant, despite all of her efforts, that she had failed.

Failed to keep her family intact, failed to be what Ron needed, failed to make herself fit the spaces he'd carved for her.

She knew, deep down, that it wasn't her job to wedge herself into someone else's ideals, but she had failed to recognize that being with Ron would require this. Convinced that he had changed though, Hermione had ignored the fact that there were some things, basic things, that would _never_ change. They were fundamental to who he was and simply incompatible with who _she_ was.

So it _wasn't_ failure.

Yet signing those papers, turning them in and walking away, still felt like it was.

When her stomach rumbled, Hermione realized she hadn't had much breakfast. With a rush, she sat up and saw that it was almost lunchtime. There was one person she wanted to see right now, and she did some quick thinking: Harry would be at work, but he never minded when she dropped in. Maybe he'd—

There was a knock on her door. She stared in that direction, as though it would help her figure out who it was or even send them away. She was definitely not up for visitors today.

Whoever it was knocked again, and she begrudgingly forced herself to get out of bed. Quietly, in case she didn't want to open it, she crept to the door and looked through the peephole.

Tears filled her eyes when she saw a head of messy black hair, and she didn't waste a moment as she threw open the door and flung herself at him.

Harry wrapped her in a hug the likes of which only he could achieve. Harry's hugs were some of the best, and she cried in his arms as he gently led her into her flat, shutting the door behind them.

"You're okay then?" He chuckled, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so glad you're here!" The words came out between sobs. After a few minutes, the flow began to lessen, and she released him to find a tissue. His work robes had a large wet patch on the front. "I'm so sorry." She dabbed at him with the tissue.

Harry grabbed her wrist. "It's alright, Hermione. I'll clean it later. With magic. I brought lunch, but you may not be up for it."

It wasn't until that moment that Hermione spared a thought for how she looked. She hadn't changed out of her pajamas when taking Rose to school, merely covered them up with a large cloak, and she knew she must look a fright. She was wearing her favorite pajamas, the ones with the stretched out neck and a knee hole on the right leg, and her hair had to be a frizzy, tangled mess. She tried to pat it down, but it refused to budge. Laughing through the tears, she used a hair band to pull it back, keeping it somewhat at bay.

"I'm quite hungry, actually. Or I was before you showed up." She took the bag from him and opened it. "Oh, Harry! Is this—"

"From your favorite Thai place?" He shrugged smugly. "Maybe."

She inhaled deeply, her mouth watering at the smells that wafted out of the bag. "This is amazing. You're the best."

He motioned towards the table. "Got anything to drink?"

"Aren't you technically on the clock?" She grabbed some glasses and filled them with water.

"Well, I told my second in command that I might not be back but to alert me if there was an emergency."

Hermione felt a wave of gratitude for her friend and grabbed two beers. Handing him a bottle, she sat down. "This looks incredible, Harry. I can't thank you enough for thinking of me."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I've thought of nothing _but_ you since yesterday morning. Remember, I know better than anybody what it's like to find myself outside the Weasley circle where I'd once been deeply in it. It's quite an experience, and no one knows better than me what you're going through."

"You're absolutely right. I hadn't thought about that."

Ginny had jumped into a strange back and forth relationship with Blaise after Hogwarts that had lasted a couple of years. Then she'd called it quits and started dating Harry. They'd gotten very serious, very quickly, to the point that they were a month away from getting married when she'd backed out. It turned out she was still in love with Blaise, and she'd been trying desperately to force things with Harry. A few years later, she and Blaise got married.

Hermione felt another spark of kinship with Harry, her friend who was practically a brother. Not to mention that neither of them had their parents in their lives. Luna, Harry's wife, was also an only child, and despite her father's apologies, Harry had never gotten close to him.

"The good news is, the Weasleys love you. You're still the mother of their granddaughter." Harry put his hand on hers. "This has been coming for a long time; it's not completely out of the blue like Ginny's announcement felt. They've had plenty of time to get used to you two not being together. And you'll be welcomed back—not that you've ever been unwelcome. Even I'm considered family again, and Ginny and I never got to the point of having kids together."

Hermione stared at her food, suddenly not sure if she was still capable of eating.

Harry groaned. "Ah, no. That wasn't helpful. Tell me something else. Talk about… anything but Ron."

"That's… difficult because it feels like everything is about him right now." She held up her hands. "The final papers were submitted yesterday, and everything is now final. And Rose has been asking me all these questions about how we fell in love, so for two nights now, I've been telling her that story."

"What's to tell?" Harry frowned. "You liked him for years, he was an idiot, then when you got together, he screwed up—only it was probably a cry for help more than anything—you were apart for a while, then after a few years, you got back together. Easy. Want me to tell her?"

Hermione could only shake her head incredulously. If Harry only knew. "There was a little more to it than just skipping from Ron in eighth to Ron when I was twenty-four. I dated other people, you know."

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I mean, I know that, but why mention any of them?"

"They're part of my story, Harry. Each and every one of them shaped my life in ways that led to marrying Ron. I suppose I'm telling her more than just my story with Ron, but it's important for her to know that when Ron and I started dating again, we had both changed in ways that made us ready to try again." She took her first bite, savoring the flavor.

Unbidden, the memory of the first time she had takeaway from this restaurant came back to her—it had been with Draco while he was working with her as a consultant for the Ministry. They'd been out with a few others doing some research. When that concluded for the day, he'd mentioned being hungry and suggested they get lunch and compare notes on what they'd learned. She'd agreed, and they passed the rest of the afternoon together.

Shaking her head slightly to clear the memory, she smiled at Harry. "I think it's important for her to understand how real relationships work. How we didn't just meet and fall in love like some storybook romance."

"She already knows." Harry spoke quietly, frowning at his plate before looking at her. "She knows the ending. Ron wasn't your storybook end."

Tears formed once more and she bit her lip. Setting her fork down, she put her head in her hands. "I know. Harry, what if I don't _have_ such an ending? What if… I missed it? Maybe it was Cassius I'd have stayed in love with for the rest of my life. Or Viktor. Or—" No, she couldn't say Draco. What she'd felt for him was never reciprocated.

"Stop. You'll drive yourself barmy thinking like that. It's not like you get one shot at love and that's it. Give yourself time. You'll find someone else; I'm sure of it. Hermione." He waved his fork to get her attention. "You're too amazing. Someone will recognize that and treat you the way you truly deserve. I just know it."

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled through watery eyes and took his hand. "You're such a good friend. Where would I be without you?"

He chuckled. "That's a question I ask myself about you all the time."

Hermione squeezed his hand, then resumed eating. "How's Luna? How are the kids?"

Harry and Luna had connected around the same time that she and Ron got together. However, they'd preferred to take things very slow and had dated for four years before marrying. Luna had always waved airily and dismissed questions about their future as unimportant. What mattered, she said, was that they were happy. And since their first date, they had been.

He broke into a smile, something he always did when asked about Luna. "She's great. We're taking the kids on holiday in a few weeks. Luna wants to search for some creature or other in the Caribbean, so the kids and I are going to a resort on a purely magical island while she goes hunting."

"That sounds fabulous! I've heard about islands that are hidden for Muggles but I've never visited one. I can't wait to hear all about it! It's such a good time to go somewhere warm." With the constantly cold, bleak days of February in London, just the thought of a tropical island made her feel a little better.

"Exactly. So, are you coming to the Burrow this weekend?"

"I'll be there Sunday. Why?"

"It wouldn't quite be the same without you." He shrugged.

"I haven't been much of a presence there in a long while. I suspect I won't feel free and ready until Ron finds someone else. Do you think he will?" She bit her lip. What if he started dating before her? Would she care? No, not really. Except that she did have a deep seated fear of being the only one without someone.

"I think you both will." Harry smiled and drank from his bottle. "Ron's been talking about someone who works in Diagon Alley. He's never come right out and said he fancied anyone, but increasingly more of his stories include her."

Hermione glanced down at her food, her stomach dropping. Of course he would be moving on. He didn't have nearly as much to worry about as she did. Between her dead-end but necessary job and being the primary parent to Rose, she had very little time for such things. Besides, she hadn't wanted to even consider dating until the divorce was final.

Which it was now.

_"He's single, you know."  
_  
She shut her eyes tight; that wasn't helping.

"I'm almost afraid to ask how you're doing, based on today, but I do want to know."

Hermione laughed. "Yesterday was fine, for the most part. I dropped off Rose, took the papers to the lawyer, then went to Millie's house. I spent the rest of the day with her until it was time to get Rose. We went on some errands, then home for dinner. I was _fine_."

"Until you weren't."

She blinked rapidly, trying to dispel her tears. "Harry, it's so ridiculous! This is exactly what I want! It's the right thing for everyone involved, especially Rose. It's been in the world for nearly a year, so why do I keep spontaneously crying?"

Harry's face was full of sympathy. "Because it's still hard."

"Why is it that the right choice is often so hard?" She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"Well, to be fair, staying together wasn't exactly easy." He gave her a pointed look.

She laughed. "Excellent point, Harry. Thank you."

Harry took his first bite of food and leaned back in his seat. "But..." He trailed off, waiting for her to reply.

Hermione groaned and dropped her head into the table. "But it still feels like I fai—"

"You did not fail, Hermione." His tone was so stern she looked up in surprise. "I love you, and I love Ron, but you two were a disaster. It's not a failure to walk away from a train wreck. Failing is staying and trying to put it all back together again and causing permanent harm by doing so."

"Was it that bad?" She winced.

"Not in a really obvious way, but knowing you both the way I do... I started worrying after your third anniversary." He looked somewhat apologetic.

Hermione shook her head. "Really? And we stretched it all the way to ten. Nine, technically, considering I spent our last anniversary with Pansy and Millie, who helped me get through the night without passing out in an alley. That was right after our separation."

"I remember. Ron was worried about you. Asked me to make sure you were okay." He paused to chuckle, smiling at the memory. "You were passed out when I knocked on your door, but Pansy was there and told me you were in bed. Wouldn't let me even see you. Figured you were in the loo, sick all over the place."

Hermione grimaced at the memory of the headache she'd woken up with. "He was worried about me?" Nobody had told her that Ron had been concerned.

"We all know you, you know. Even Ron. Sometimes." He smiled weakly. "You know he cares about you and always will. You're the mother of his child."

"I feel the same. I'll always love him in that way. And I know that I'll feel better eventually, but… just right now, it's hard." She finished her drink and looked at her friend. "What do you want to do now?"

He laughed. "We could watch a film. I brought microwave popcorn."

"Ooh. I love making it pop with magic!" She jumped up and went to the kitchen for a bowl. "You pick something. Only not _Pride and Prejudice_. Or any love story, really. I don't need to feel worse than I already do."

"You'll find someone again, Hermione." Harry's voice was muffled from the other room. "I promise."

She paused on her way to join him. If there was anybody she could tell about her strange fixation on Draco, it was Harry. He would never judge her, and he would probably have something very wise to say. Something along the lines of "Very funny, Hermione. Malfoy? Good one." She felt a strong urge to confess and decided she would.

Setting the bowl down, she picked up the bag he'd left on the table. Harry was in the other room looking at her film collection. As she carefully unfolded it, she spoke up so he could hear. "So remember how you mentioned that Ron kept talking about a woman?"

"Yeah. Why?" The sound of plastic cases being shuffled was loud, even from around a corner.

Her stomach swooped at the mere thought of what she was about to say, and she was thankful he was in the other room. "Well, it's funny, because I keep thinking about Draco Malfoy."

All sound instantly ceased. Seconds later, Harry poked his head around the corner, his expression earnest. "Sorry. It was loud in there. For a second, I thought I heard you mention Malfoy. Did you? Mention Malfoy? And what do you mean, you keep thinking about him?"

She cast a heating charm and directed it at the popcorn bag. In seconds, the sounds of the popping filled the room. Harry joined her; it had always been something they loved doing together, having grown up in the Muggle world. When the bag was finished, she busied herself dumping the contents into the bowl, careful to avoid his gaze. "I keep _thinking_ about him. In ways that make me flustered. Did you pick something to watch?"

" _Die Hard_. But, Hermione, what are you saying?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

She bit her lip and looked him in the eye. "I've had feelings for him multiple times since eighth year. And we kissed. Once. But it wasn't until after I broke up with Ron. It also wasn't much of a kiss, but it still haunts me, and I keep having these fluttery sensations whenever I think about him."

Harry blinked, a baffled expression on his face. "Wait. _Why_ are you thinking about him again? Did I miss something?"

"He's part of my story. The one I'm telling Rose. And Millie mentioned him yesterday. Rose keeps asking about him—you know, without knowing who he really is." She moved past him, continuing into the living room. The movie Harry had chosen was on the floor beside the rejects, and she made quick work of inserting the disc.

"Malfoy? You… fancied him? When you were with Ron?" Harry was frowning when she glanced at him.

"Yes. A bit. But I didn't think much of it then. I dismissed it because Ron and I were apart for that year. I assumed it was a case of not having Ron and forging such a close relationship with another attractive man." She went to the sofa and sat on one end, the same end she sat on with Rose. "The thing is, Harry, he understands me better than anyone." She sighed at Harry's affronted look. "At least he used to. My relationship with him was the deepest of any in my life, in some ways deeper than with you. I've never wanted to kiss you."

Harry pretended to be wounded. "Ouch! Never thought I'd be supplanted by Malfoy."

"Of course you haven't been." She fiddled with the edging on a pillow. "I don't know why I keep feeling these things."

"Once again, I think I understand you." He chuckled wryly. "Before Ginny and I really made a go of things, I couldn't think of anyone else. When she was with Blaise, I was a mess. Other women didn't interest me. But once we got together, and then after the end, I felt free of her. Only then could I move forward. Maybe you still need some way to be free of him."

She frowned. "I don't feel chained by his memory though. Or by the idea of him."

"I didn't know that's what it was with her, either. It wasn't until she told me she couldn't marry me that I became… unburdened. And maybe that's not how you feel," he added quickly, undoubtedly seeing her distress.

"I didn't feel the ghost of 'what if?' And I haven't had feelings like this for him in… many years." Groaning, she dropped her head in her hands. "I don't even know if what I'm feeling is real feelings! How can I know when I barely see him?"

Harry cocked his head, regarding her thoughtfully. "I've seen the two of you interact, though. Now that I'm thinking about it... You gravitate towards each other. You always find something to talk about, and you appear content to talk to each other all night. It's only because the rest of us interfere that you don't."

"Is that so?" She peered at him through her fingers.

"There were a few times I was surprised Ron didn't get jealous." He shrugged. "I guess he never felt threatened by Malfoy."

"He certainly had no reason to be." Even though she'd had feelings for Draco at various times and to various degrees, she'd never been unfaithful. She'd never even been tempted to be.

"You had feelings for him though. While you were with Ron."

"That's true, but I didn't do anything about them. And I was nineteen!"

"But then again later, you said?"

"Nothing really concrete. We were friends. But it was more than just friends, for me at least, but I didn't see it that way then. More of a nebulous attraction." She winced. "We wrote to each other for over a year."

His eyes went wide. "You had a long distance thing?"

"A friendship, yes. Only I got such a thrill whenever I saw his owl. It was quite Pavlovian."

"I don't want to know about your thrills with Malfoy."

She swatted at him. "Not like _that!_ "

He grinned, then his expression turned serious. "I was joking. I know you were never unfaithful to Ron. And... I know what it's like to have... thoughts for someone while you're with someone else."

Hermione nodded. "We are three out of three on understanding each other today."

"Listen. I want you to be happy. If there's even a chance Malfoy might make you happy…" Harry's smile became concerned. "Although, he hasn't dated anyone since that whole mess with Astoria. At least not publicly. I suppose he's capable of getting up to things away from reporters. But certainly nothing serious enough to make the news. That whole thing must have really messed him up. It's been, what, three years?"

She wrapped her hands around her glass, dropping her gaze. "Well it's not like I'm going to rush over to the school and ask him out any time soon. He wasn't interested, remember?"

He gave her a long, appraising look. "Is it possible you misinterpreted what happened?"

"No." She shook her head adamantly. "It was very clear." One more confession burst out of her. "I still have every letter." She hid her face in shame.

Harry slapped the table with a laugh. "Why am I not surprised? I thought you said it wasn't that kind of relationship!"

She looked back up at him. "It wasn't! But we talked about the most interesting things! It started with Hippogriff laws, but ranged all over. We debated Ministry Law, Hogwarts curriculum, magical theory, Quidditch politics, Pureblood ideology—you name it, we covered it. And I kept the letters because they were so well written!"

Harry shook his head, his expression incomprehensible. "I'm sure they were."

"No, Harry! Listen!" She reached for his arm, chuckling at how silly it sounded to her now. "His arguments were so well researched and defended. I had to refer to them when crafting my responses. I'd often go back and see something new I'd overlooked on the first read and then write him about that. The back and forth, the depth of conversation… It was fascinating."

Harry tapped his head. "So he does something for you here."

"He definitely did, I suppose." She let out a long sigh. "Unlike anybody I've ever met."

"Well, if there's one area where you most need stimulation, it's your mind. You know that."

She blushed slightly at the suggestive word. "I'm sure you're right. But, Harry, this is all very one-sided."

His expression was sardonic. "I would bet you a hundred Galleons he still has all your letters."

"I would absolutely take that bet, Harry Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Harry smirked and held out his hand. "Let's shake on it."

It was the easiest agreement she'd ever made, and she shook his hand with a laugh. "I don't know how we'll get the answer to this."

"I'm not worried. Now, come on. Let's get to this fun, yeah? If I'm skipping out on work, let's make it worth it!"

"Conversation with me isn't enough?" She teased.

"Yes, but we can't do that for two more hours. I'm about talked out. Time for Die Hard." He sat up and glanced at the clock. "Oh, do you have to get Rose, though?"

"No, it's Tuesday. Ron gets her from school, takes her to dinner, spends the afternoon with her. He'll bring her here for bedtime."

Harry relaxed and sank back into the sofa. With a wave of his hand, the curtains closed and all the lights went out. "Perfect."

* * *

Harry had to leave after the film ended. Hermione thanked him profusely for stopping by. He'd asked about her dinner plans, and she'd told him she was going to spend the evening alone. This had worried him, but she insisted she'd be fine.

She spent the rest of the afternoon tidying up and reading, though her mind kept wandering to the box of letters in her closet.

Hermione finally gave up and pulled it out, tapping the shoebox-sized box to expand it to its true dimensions. There were more than just a few letters; sometimes they'd written multiple times a day, depending on how heated the topic was.

And it wasn't just letters; sometimes he sent her little mementos from his travels. There was a stack of postcards; in museums, he would grab one of every piece of artwork that he thought she might like. When he went to historic sites or saw beautiful scenery, he said he couldn't just pick one. Hermione laughed and set those aside. He rarely wrote on them, just wrapped them in parchment like a package and sent them by owl.

He'd also sent her brochures of places he visited, stickers he collected, even matchbooks from Muggle places, which he claimed amused him to no end. There was a smattering of other things: train tickets, foreign coins, ticket stubs, programs for music or sporting events he'd attended. Occasionally, he'd even sent little pictures he'd drawn of things he'd seen. As she started to go through everything, she decided on a glass of wine. That led to a fire in the hearth, and she carried the box over so she could sit on the floor and look through it all.

Every little scrap made her smile and brought to mind various lines from his letters.

Once she'd gone through all the extra things, she came to the letters themselves. The stack had to be twelve inches deep. Seeing it all now, years since she'd last really looked at it, she was amazed at how much they'd written. Of course, there had been so much to discuss.

But first, dinner.

Hermione reheated some leftovers and took them back to her spot by the fire. She opened the first letter from him with a grin.

_Granger,_

_Thank you for that bleeding essay on Hippogriff Laws dating back to feudal times. It was fascinating reading material, I assure you.  
_

She could still hear the sarcasm practically dripping from his quill.

The letter went on to offer counterpoints to everything she'd said, and when she'd first received it, she'd started writing her response before even finishing the letter. Her reply had been thorough, researched, and, she'd thought, rock solid. Yet he had somehow managed to respond with new arguments, new thoughts, new ways of looking at the issue.

Hippogriffs were just the start. They'd embarked on a journey together through letters, and she had never felt more alive than when she was working on a response to him. Looking back, the beginning of their correspondence might have been solely responsible for her relationship with Cassius lasting as long as it did.

Draco's letters distracted her from recognizing how incompatible she and Cassius truly were. And then, when she'd started seeing Viktor, her correspondence with Draco had been so much a part of her life she didn't even think about it. Victor knew they wrote to each other. Sometimes she let him read one of the letters, and he'd never said anything about it.

Hermione finished the first letter and had a decision to make. The stack was huge, but she knew there were really lovely lines hidden like diamonds among all the snark and arguing.

It was an easy choice. She picked up the letters and went to the sofa to get more comfortable. Merlin, she'd forgotten just how much she'd enjoyed this part of her life, and she felt pangs of missing it—and missing _him_.

When she was maybe a third of the way through, there was a knock on the door. Hermione glanced up, startled to see that it was almost nine. Not only had nearly three hours passed by in the blink of an eye, but Ron was late bringing Rose over.

She jumped up, put the letters back in the box, and hurriedly stashed it out of sight. Ron was knocking again when she opened the door.

Her stomach clenched slightly when their eyes met, but it was more from nerves at seeing him for the first time since the divorce was final than anything else.

His smile was as easy as always, and his eyes pleaded with her not to say anything about his tardiness in front of Rose.

"Mum! Daddy took me for ice cream _and_ a brownie." Rose quickly hugged her and then entered the flat.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at Ron. "That's lovely, dear. You know the drill, get ready for bed."

Rose disappeared into the bathroom.

"Ron." She gave him a disapproving look.

"I know, I know. I'm late." He smiled sheepishly. "But we were having such a good time!"

She crossed her arms. "It's a school night."

"I know that, and I'm sorry."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Hermione couldn't be too upset, however, considering she had let Rose stay up way too late on a school night just two nights earlier. At least he wasn't trying to insist it wouldn't happen again, which they both knew would be a lie.

"It's just, we were having a great time, and she was talking to me in a way she never had before, and I just… didn't want that to end." He shrugged unapologetically.

"I can't really blame you there." She gave him a small smile.

He visibly relaxed. "Great. Well, good night Hermione." He took a step away, then stopped. "You, um, okay? How do you feel after… well, you know. Everything." He was turning red.

"I'm fine, Ron." Emotions weren't his strong suit, but she appreciated the effort. She wanted them to have a good relationship for Rose's sake; after all, they'd be in each other's lives' for the rest of them. "Thank you for checking in. Really." She smiled. "I should go."

"Right, yeah." He took two steps backward, then stopped again. "Oh hey, I forgot. I was cleaning out the closet—you know the one. And I found a few things of yours. I meant to bring the box tonight but..." He shrugged.

"I'll get it Friday when I bring Rose's things over." She shook her head with a light chuckle. "I thought we'd gotten everything out of that closet!"

"Well, when you use magic to expand a space, you never quite know what's going to happen. I also found quite a few things we'd misplaced over the years. Almost like it was some kind of black hole. Remember that Cannons sweatshirt I swore your cat ate? It was in there." He made an incredulous face. "Too bad I blamed Crookshanks for that for the last few years of his life. Wish I could make it up to him."

She laughed, the memory of her beloved Kneazle sending a warm pulse through her. "That's incredible. And you wondered why he wanted nothing to do with you. But at least you have it again."

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I still think the cat got to it though. It's got some holes that I don't remember it having."

"Mum, where are you? I can't find the toothpaste!" Rose's voice called from inside the flat.

"I should go, Ron. Thanks again. Have a good night." She clapped her hand on the edge of the door.

"See you later, Hermione." Ron gave a small wave and Disapparated.

Hermione found Rose already in her bed, but instead of lying down, she was sitting up with bright eyes, expectantly waiting for her.

"Rose, do you want me to read to you or do you want to go straight to bed?"

"Oh, Mummy, I'm not tired! Not even a little bit. Daddy and I had so much fun; I couldn't possibly go to sleep yet." She gave Hermione her most charming smile, even going so far as to bring out the puppy eyes. "I want to hear more about the story!"

Hermione laughed. She could see that Rose was indeed a bit wired, likely from the sweets she'd consumed. "Alright. Once you're nice and tucked in, I will pick up where we left off."

Rose beamed and got herself settled in. "You were telling me that Joey wasn't a good match. But then you met someone while you were with him that you knew from school? Is this another man you dated?"

"Yes, love. His name was..." She trailed off to give Rose the chance to name Viktor in the story.

"Elliot!"

"Elliot. And he was also in the Quidditch world—"

"So also not my father?" Rose was crestfallen.

Hermione fought a wince. "Remember, I told you that I've changed a lot of details in this. I shouldn't confirm any more details like I did with Joey not being your father. But telling this story isn't always easy, and using Quidditch as a career choice... _is_ easy."

"Ah. Okay, Mummy. I'm ready. Go on."

"Elliott also had a presence in the Quidditch world, and we reconnected near Christmas time. There was a big, fancy party hosted by the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and the invites list extended to international participants of the sport in any way—especially those who'd been in England at any point in time."

* * *

Hermione bit back a snort as she entered the ballroom on Cassius's arm. Games & Sports had never been known for their subtlety, and this Christmas party was no exception. Everywhere she looked, the décor screamed "Quidditch Christmas," right down to the fluttering Snitches flying overhead, mistletoe somehow dangling from them. The tables had gaudy centerpieces showcasing the three golden Quidditch hoops, decorated with greenery and big red bows and surrounded by more greenery. All of this was further covered with little Snitches. The effect was ostentatious at best.

Cassius immediately waved to someone, and for the next hour, they flitted from one person to the next, each of them fawning over Cassius while he fawned over them in turn. It was one big International Quidditch Love Fest, and she was done after the first ten minutes. But Cassius lived for these events, and Hermione was coming to terms with the reality that she could not remain in his life for much longer.

She stayed beside Cassius, gritting her teeth through small talk while he laughed with and cajoled everyone they came in contact with.

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time to sit for dinner. At least for this part, she could get off her feet, and she was guaranteed a delicious meal. She needed to end things with Cassius soon, but maybe tonight wasn't the best night. He was in such good spirits, and the shags were always so good after he'd been around a room full of people who adored him.

She'd wait a day or two.

They were the first to arrive at their assigned table, and Cassius helped Hermione into her chair. Instead of sitting down beside her, however, he started talking to the people at the tables around theirs.

While Cassius spoke to a tall man just behind Hermione, she noticed a lovely woman in a deep green dress two seats away and smiled politely at her.

They greeted each other and went through the usual introductions. The woman's accent was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

She didn't need to ponder long, however, because as soon as she'd given her name to the woman, the man Cassius had been speaking to whirled around.

"Herm-owny?"

She looked up into the face of Viktor Krum, whose surprised expression made her nerves dance. "Viktor!" She stood and they embraced. Immense relief washed over her at the sight of her old friend. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a total headache after all.

Cassius looked alarmed when they separated, the first time she'd ever seen him with a shred of self-doubt. "You know each other?"

"Herm-owny and I go back quite a few years. It's been, I'm thinking, five years?"

"Six, actually. Well, no, we saw each other at the wedding."

Viktor nodded excitedly. "Yes. So three years. It feels like much longer."

"It does, you're right. How are you? How's Quidditch? I know you're still playing, but are you still enjoying it?"

His smile lit up the entire room. "Yes, _moyata silna_. Very much."

Hermione blushed at the endearment; he used to call her that in fourth year and in the years after when they wrote to each other. It meant "my strong one" in Bulgarian, and it never failed to reduce her to a puddle when he said it with his thick, Bulgarian brogue.

"How exactly do you know each other?" Cassius frowned.

"We met at Hogwarts. I was there for the Triwizard Tournament."

Cassius's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, that's... I remember you, of course, Viktor, but..." He regarded Hermione as though he'd never seen her before. "I should know this, but I don't."

"We attended the Yule Ball together," Hermione supplied.

Comprehension dawned, and the top of Cassius's cheekbones went pink. "And for the second task, he rescued you from the lake."

She nodded.

"We have been friends ever since, though we haven't seen each other in years." Viktor beamed at her and put his hands on the back of her chair. "Are you sitting beside me? Fantastic. What a lucky coincidence. Here, allow me."

He pushed her chair in, then sat down. "You look beautiful tonight, Herm-owny."

Hermione blushed, wondering what Cassius must be thinking—not to mention the woman who was obviously Viktor's date.

Cassius, so used to being the center of attention, was oddly silent as the meal began and everyone at the table wanted to talk with Viktor. Hermione actually felt a bit sorry for her boyfriend and gave his hand a squeeze. He quirked his lips but into a shadow of a smile.

Sitting between Viktor and Cassius, she felt extremely strange. Where Cassius's effervescent personality seemed very superficial, Viktor was no less animated yet came across as far more genuine. Knowing both men, she knew that was the crux of the matter. Though Cassius was sincere with her, he was often disingenuous with others. She'd quickly seen it in him after starting to date him but had distanced herself from situations where she had to witness it. Now she cringed at the behavior.

That should have been the first sign that their time was reaching its natural end.

She'd been making excuses for him and their relationship, thinking he was flighty, even harmlessly flirty. Despite his personality, he'd never once given her reason to doubt his affections, simply the depth of them. In all the months they'd been together, he'd never once said he loved her. She hadn't either, but she'd _believed_ herself in love with him. The truth, she had slowly begun to realize, was that she was perhaps simply _in lust._

Which was okay—she'd never been able to picture herself with him long term.

And now that she was certain in her resolve to end this adventurous relationship, here was Viktor. An old love who kept finding little reasons to touch her incidentally, who kept smiling at her in a way that made her heart race, and she knew, because she knew _him_ , that he meant every single thing.

Once dinner was concluded, Viktor asked his date to dance. Cassius appeared to relax when Viktor vacated the table, though not as completely as he'd been before dinner.

"Do you want to dance?" His crooked smile was still endearing.

"I'd like that, yes." Hermione took Cassius's hand, and he led her onto the dance floor. He didn't speak but took her in his arms, an intensity in his eyes she'd never seen before.

"You and Krum seem… close." His tone was much too serious for such a public conversation.

She nodded. "Yes. We became close, and even though we don't see each other often, it's the kind of friendship that doesn't change no matter how much time has passed."

"Friendship," Cassius repeated.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Cassius. Viktor is… special. To me. I'm sorry if that upsets you. But obviously we aren't so close that we knew we'd both be here tonight."

That seemed to cheer Cassius and he smiled a little. "That's true. I'm sorry. I'm not usually the jealous type. But Krum is... Wow." His eyes widened and he shook his head. "He's way more famous than me."

It was all she could do not to laugh. Merlin, she needed to end things. Was it wrong to want one more night with him, knowing she intended to end it? It would only be for fun, and that was really all this relationship had been about in the end. Fun.

After the dance, Hermione told Cassius she wanted some water. He released her, his hand lingering on hers. She gave him a questioning look and left him there on the dance floor.

She felt a little flushed as she sat back at their table. Someone had refilled their water glasses, and she drank greedily. Movement beside her caught her attention, and Viktor's date sat down just as Hermione turned her head.

The woman gave her a curious smile, and Hermione was about to say something to her when Cassius sat down on her other side.

"What are you doing?" She was surprised he'd come to join her, as he usually flitted around, talking to everyone while she took breaks.

He shrugged and drank some water. "Just thirsty. Do you want to dance the next one?"

"I think I'm going to sit this one out. You go have fun!" His sudden clinginess couldn't be coincidence; he was anxious about Viktor. It was mildly entertaining, but she had weathered jealously over Viktor before. Besides, he was just her friend, and had been her friend for years.

He started to speak but someone came over to talk to him. Cassius stood and engaged with the wizard for a few minutes before leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Hermione, this bloke wants me to meet some people. I'll be back soon."

"Take your time." She smiled encouragingly. "I'm fine."

When Cassius was gone, Viktor's date spoke. "He's very attentive."

Hermione saw Viktor out of the corner of her eye, talking in a group of witches and wizards, his good natured smile evident across the room. She wondered if this woman wished her date would spend more time with her.

"He's not usually, to be honest." She smiled and shrugged.

The woman glanced over Hermione's shoulder, eyes widening appreciatively.

"Hermione!"

She spun to find Ginny Weasley beaming at her.

* * *

"Wait. Aunt Ginny?" Rose was frowning at her. "Why didn't you change her name? And why was she there? "

"Oh, um, well, you know Aunt Ginny plays Quidditch. She was at the event with her team. They were being recognized for an achievement."

Rose's eyes went wide. "Oh, that's very neat. But why didn't you change her name?

"It honestly just slipped out. It didn't occur to me to change her name." She hadn't even thought anything about mentioning Ginny, but it stood to reason Rose would wonder about using her real name. "Are you ready for the lights out?"

Rose's eyes flew open. "No! You haven't even finished talking about the party!"

"All right. It's nearly done. Ginny simply came to say hello, and Elliot's date left. I didn't talk to her long, however, because Elliot came back to the table."

"Everyone was so busy."

Hermione laughed. "Yes. That's how silly parties are. We talk and talk, and at this one we danced as well. Elliot and I talked all through that song, and then he asked me to dance."

Rose's face lit up. "And did you? Elliot sounds so nice, Mum. And my Dad is really nice."

"Yes, Elliot was very nice. I did dance with him."

"And did you feel all kinds of sparkly feelings?"

Hermione couldn't stop the smile at the memories. "I… definitely felt some things for him I hadn't felt in a long time."

Rose's eyes went wide as saucers. "Wait. What? You mean, you'd fancied him before?"

"Let's return to the story, shall we?" Hermione avoided her daughter's eyes and needlessly fluffed the pillows and smoothed the blanket.

"Yes, Mummy! Let's!" Despite her best efforts, a yawn forced itself out, and Hermione knew she didn't have much time left.

* * *

Viktor led her onto the dance floor, his hand lightly brushing the small of her back. She felt like everyone was staring at them, though she knew it was only in her imagination.

What would Cassius think when he saw them? It seemed like he'd experienced a jolt of some kind tonight. With a sinking feeling, Hermione realized just how selfish it would be of her to delay the end of this relationship even a day longer if his sudden attentiveness tonight was demonstrative of an increase in his own feelings.

Before she could act, Viktor had turned, an easy smile on his face, and he effortlessly brought her into his arms. With a wink, he held her in the same position he'd held her for the start of the Yule Ball, and she laughed.

When the music began, he whisked her away, and for a moment, nothing existed but him. Then he had to go and ruin it by asking _the_ question, bringing her back to the event going on around them.

"Is that man your boyfriend?" He nodded subtly towards where she knew Cassius was.

She blushed, for some reason wishing her answer could be different. "Yes, he is. Though we've only been together about six months. It's not really serious."

He raised an eyebrow, something like relief flashing in his eyes. "Ah. I see. Herm-owny, you are stunning. I am having trouble keeping my eyes off you."

It was her turn to give him a skeptical look. "I'm sure _your_ date wouldn't appreciate that."

Viktor laughed, a full, hearty sound that made her nerves skip pleasantly. "That is Nadia. My sister."

"Your sister?" She gasped in delight and amazement. "Oh, I had no idea. I've always wanted to meet her."

"I will introduce you, formally, tonight. But That clears that up, now doesn't it?"

The look in his eye, the possessive press of his hand at her waist, left no doubt in her mind what he was thinking, and she found it suddenly difficult to breathe properly. For the barest instant, she thought he might try to kiss her, but then he merely smiled and swept her back into the dance. She should have known; Viktor was far too much of a gentleman to kiss her while she was in a relationship with someone. The problem, however, was that Hermione didn't know what she wanted him to do.

Soon the moment passed, and they shared a lovely dance, talking and catching up over what had happened since they last saw each other.

Cassius collected her as soon as it was over and didn't leave her side all night. She could feel Viktor's eyes on her for the rest of the evening, and it had her on edge in a very unnerving yet delightful way. His attention felt like a promise she was ready to be given.

* * *

"And then Joey and I broke up the next day."

"Poor Joey. Was he sad?" Rose looked at her with wide, concerned eyes.

"Maybe a little. But I think, more than being sad about losing _me_ , he had realized that he wanted something more than what we had. Our relationship was fun, and we laughed a lot, but it wasn't a deep connection. He could see that what I had with Elliot, only as a friend, was deeper than what he and I had. And I think it made him realize that he wanted something deeper. I'm certain I wasn't the person for that."

Rose sighed mournfully. "I still feel for him. He had to watch as Elliot basically stole you away right in front of him."

Hermione couldn't tell the full story. That she'd tried to break it off with Cassius that very night, but he had silenced her with a kiss.

_At first, she responded, but then her conscience interrupted._

_"Cassius, wait."_

_He left her lips and trailed kisses down her neck. "Not tonight, Hermione. Don't speak. Let me give you one more night."_

_"What?" She took his face in her hands and made him look at her. "What do you mean?"_

_He kissed her hungrily, deeply, passionately. "You are the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I'm nowhere near worthy to keep you by my side. Let me show my appreciation in the best way I know how."_

_"But—"_

_"No. Whatever you want to say, it can wait until tomorrow."_

_Her resolve was definitely weakening. If he knew what was coming and wanted one last night with her, who was she to argue? Besides he was kissing down her chest now and she needed to give him an answer before she was incapable of one._

_"Alright."_

_Cassius was true to his word and spent the entire night showing his appreciation. She'd never had another night like it._

_In the morning, she ended things. He wasn't surprised, though, simply saddened at their end. He gave her a long hug and kissed her forehead, holding her hand until the last possible second as he walked away. She watched him go with peace in her heart._

Hermione sighed at the memory, then shook her head to dispel it. She fluffed Rose's pillow and unnecessarily fussed over the bedding. "It didn't go like that at all! Elliot was very considerate and didn't approach me for three months after things ended with Joey." When Rose started to speak, she held up a hand. "That is absolutely a story for another day. It's bedtime."

"Alright. I am tired. Thank you, Mum. I love you."

Hermione kissed her cheek. "I love you, too, Rose."

Later, when she was alone, she searched within herself for any lingering feelings that may have resurfaced for Cassius like they had for Draco. Nothing materialized. There was only fondness, nothing more. She wondered at Harry's theory, that she'd never had closure with Draco, but that didn't feel true. She _had_ felt closure with him, only rather than coming at the end of a relationship, it had happened before one even had the chance to begin. Perhaps that was why his memory was doing funny things to her heart.

Hermione poured herself another glass of wine and returned to the living room. Part of her wanted to read through all of the remaining letters from Draco; another part warned that doing so would only make her more aware of his memory than she already was, and she didn't know if that was a good idea or not.

But she should at least finish the one she'd been reading when Ron arrived. It had been an in-depth look into the history of the Statute of Secrecy, and even though she'd obviously read it once, she had forgotten most of the details.

That settled, she collected the stack of letters and resumed her position on the sofa, picking up where she'd left off.

_You didn't honestly think I would forget your birthday, did you? I saved my favorite site-seeing for it, I'll have you know. Went to the Trevi fountain with a cup of strawberry gelato-I know you like strawberry. I even let a rose-seller talk me into buying a rose. I thought of you. Threw a couple of coins into the fountain. We'll see if it works._

Three hours later, she fell asleep snuggled under a warm blanket, a letter held loosely to her chest, with all the lights in the room still on.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mum? What's all this?"

Hermione blinked her eyes open, squinting against the light.

_"Granger, your rebuttal was solid but—"  
_  
Before a single synapse had even registered a thought, Hermione snatched the letter out of Rose's hand. When Rose smirked and grabbed another one, Hermione waved her hand, and all the things from Draco sped back into their box.

"Oh, this is some reading I was doing last night. Clearly I fell asleep in the middle of it." She rubbed her eyes and felt for the state of her hair. It was bushier than usual, thanks to her unusual sleeping conditions.

Rose's eyes sparkled. "Are these letters from my father?"

_Bugger.  
_  
Hermione jumped up and shut the box, trying to act as though it was no big deal. "I've received many letters in my life, Rose. What makes you think they're from him? They could be from anybody."

"But why would you keep letters from just anybody? They'd have to be from someone extra special, like my daddy, for you to want to keep them!" She beamed as though she'd single-handedly solved all the problems of the world.

_Double bugger.  
_  
"Elliot wrote to me as well. After things with Joey ended." Hermione kept her face neutral even as she considered how very, _very_ different those letters were from Draco's.

Rose looked at her skeptically, then shrugged. "Alright. Keep your secrets. Anyway, it's time to get up. I don't want to be late for school. Again. I'm all ready to go."

Hermione forced herself to shake off the sleep, then examined her daughter. Rose was dressed, her hair was pulled back nicely, and she had her book bag on. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to fall asleep out here. I suppose I lost track of time last night."

"On a trip down memory lane?" Rose grinned, then grabbed her hand. "Come on! Let's go! You look fine. Amazing, even."

Laughing, Hermione allowed Rose to pull her to standing. "Let me brush my teeth and freshen up. Five minutes, no more."

"I'm counting!" Rose called as Hermione darted to the bathroom.

Once she was ready, Hermione grabbed an extra jumper for Rose. "Remember we're meeting Aunt Pansy and Lila after school."

"I know, Mum. Does Aunt Pansy know your story?" There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"No." Thank Merlin for small mercies. "Let's go."

Once Rose was safely deposited at school, Hermione returned home. She stared at her closet, trying to decide what to wear, and considered going into the office. She'd originally only wanted to take Monday off, but the knowledge that she'd see Harry if she went in made her hesitate. It had taken a lot of pleading from him, along with a few other people, to get her to agree to the full week off. She was glad she'd listened about Tuesday, but now she felt ready to get back to life.

The only hitch was that she'd made plans with Pansy for lunch... and afterwards. That could be adjusted, of course, with little effort. Pansy would understand.

Finally deciding on a blouse, she heard a tapping noise at her window. Leaving the top for now, she let the owl in, eyes widening when she saw whose owl it was.

She smiled in amusement, as she did every time she saw this owl. Only Percy Weasley would keep an owl as pretentious as he was. Greeting the owl with a treat, Hermione removed the note attached to his leg. She knew it was from Pansy—she easily recognized the handwriting—and wondered if her friend had been inside her head just now or if she simply knew her tendencies really well.

_Hermione,_

_Don't even think about cancelling our plans. I've been waiting for this day for weeks, and I won't have you ruin it just because you're coming out of your skin being at home alone._

_Take a bath._

_Drink wine—even though it's barely eight in the morning._

_Go back to sleep._

_Or do something new, like read a book._

_But I will see you for lunch in Hogsmeade at one._

_Pansy  
_

Hermione smiled and shook her head. She should have known that Pansy would practically read her mind. Fine. She wouldn't try to work; she'd clean instead. But first, breakfast.

Before long, she was sitting down with a book, something to eat, and a cup of tea. But the book didn't hold her attention. She kept thinking about the letter Rose had started reading, the one she'd dropped when she fell asleep the night before.

She hadn't gotten through every letter from Draco. At some point, she'd decided to take a few notes on some things he'd said, so she'd found a blank notebook and started from the beginning.

She could probably finish before lunch; there weren't many left, maybe thirty.

Yes, that was precisely what she wanted to do.

Abandoning the book, Hermione retrieved the last of the letters and her notebook and pen.

When she had about a dozen letters left, Hermione realized something. Something had shifted in them. It was so subtle that she couldn't pinpoint when it had started. She felt him pulling back, disguised in claims of increased workload and demand from his parents. She didn't doubt those things, but he'd never let them bother him before—not enough to mention. And they had certainly never affected his correspondence.

Over a year's worth of letters lay before her, yet the slow and steady change from him in the last twenty or so was glaring. She hadn't noticed it when it was happening, probably because her own life had been so full. Not to mention that in binge reading everything, patterns and shifts would be easier to detect.

She tried to think back to something that might have been the catalyst, but nothing jumped out at her.

As she glanced around the room, hoping for something to stand out, her gaze landed on a clock. She started—she only had a few minutes to get ready for lunch with Pansy. She hurriedly put everything away where Rose wouldn't accidentally find it, then went to get ready.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late." Hermione breezed into the restaurant.

Pansy was waiting, one eyebrow cocked. "I hope it's because you were sleeping or something."

"Got caught up reading."

Pansy sighed. "I suppose that's the something I was hoping for. Better than nothing."

"Not a book, though. You'd be proud."

"What could you get lost in reading if it wasn't a book?" Her look was disbelieving.

"Just cleaning out old correspondence." There was no chance she would tell Pansy who the letters were from.

Pansy's face immediately softened. "Oh. Well, if that's what you needed to do."

"I did consider going in to work, so your note saved me from that." She grinned at her friend, whose expression immediately cleared of the sympathy she'd been showing.

"Of course you did. Well, thank Merlin for small miracles. Shall we eat now? I'm famished."

"Yes, let's."

Once they were seated, Pansy gave her a sympathetic smile, leaned forward, and put her hand on Hermione's arm. "How are you doing?"

The question made her bristle, and Hermione realized with annoyance that she would be hearing it a lot in the foreseeable future. "I'm fine, Pansy... Or, I'm as fine as I can be."

"Really? Is that the truth?" Pansy's gaze was searching. "I need to know you aren't going to start crying on me."

Startled, Hermione blinked at the witch. "I have no plans to do so."

Relieved, Pansy let out a breath and relaxed. "Thank Merlin. I'm shite at comforting people. Lila and Liam lost a pet fish, and they were completely devastated. I had no idea what to do. As long as you don't cry, I'll be fine."

Hermione laughed out of sheer astonishment. "I'm glad that's settled, then."

Pansy shuddered. "Me too. If you broke down, I don't know what I would do. But I might run. Fair warning, should you get, you know, emotional about your divorce."

"Thanks for the heads-up." She shook her head, unable to stop smiling. "I'll save the crying for other friends."

"Like Potter. He seems like the right one for that. Me? I'm here to nudge you to start looking for a replacement." Pansy gave her an arch look.

Hermione nearly spat out her drink. "Pansy! It's only been two days!"

Pansy rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's the official divorce, remember. You've been separated for over a year. It's been inevitable for at least nine months. Surely your eye has been drawn in some direction or another in that time."

"Not really, Pansy. I've been so focused on Rose, on being there for her. Ron's just living at home with his family right now, so he can't really house her for more than weekends. And I didn't want this divorce to define her."

Pansy patted her hand. "You've been amazing, Hermione. Truly. She's so lucky to have you. I mean that. What you've done, the work you put in with Ron to make your divorce as amicable as possible, to try and stay friends with him." She shook her head. "I couldn't do it. Of course, it's not like you and Ron split because one of you cheated. You just… don't work, and that was starting to affect your family. It's been so much better since you separated and figured out what works for you."

"Yes, I completely agree with you. I'm in a much better place now, too. Things with Rose have been pretty well settled the last few months." It still stung a little to admit that she and Ron didn't work. There was nothing bad that had happened, no life-altering event. They'd simply grown so far apart that they didn't recognize each other, and when they'd sought counseling, they had both realized that neither of them _wanted_ to work on their marriage. There was nothing about it that they missed.

"You're in the perfect position to start looking!" Pansy gave her a sly grin. "I know your eyes still work."

Hermione shook her head with a soft laugh. "Of course my eyes work, Pansy. And I'm sure that, someday, I will be ready to use them again." Beyond a doubt, she wanted to find love again. And she fully believed that she would recognize it when she found it. Ron had arrived on the scene at the perfect time for their love to bloom. Hermione was healing after an emotional breakup with Viktor, and Ron was familiar and comfortable. She could be herself around him, and it was exactly what she'd needed at the time. Unfortunately, she'd really just needed him as a friend, but she'd mistaken it for love. It felt like they'd come full circle in the story of _them;_ the man she'd always dreamed of marrying and thought she'd lost had come back into her life at just the right moment. It was meant to be.

That sense of destiny, of the fairy-tale conclusion to their reconnection, carried her for a long time, and it was devastating to realize that it wasn't actually the love she'd been awaiting. She appreciated the camaraderie she had with Ron, but there was no spark, no anticipation. Rarely had she felt her nerves flutter when she saw him across a room.

She sighed. Had she been fooling herself, aching for something that probably only existed in a dream?

"What?" Pansy practically jumped across the table in her excitement.

"No, you misunderstand. It's just… Harry told me that Ron's been talking about a woman who works in Diagon." She shrugged. "It sounds like he's been looking already."

"As he should be. You filed nine months ago. There was no need for either of you to exist in a state of limbo until the whole thing was finally over." Pansy pointed to someone across the room. "He's bloody fit. You should talk to him."

Hermione shook her head, not even interested in looking. "That's certainly not happening today, Pansy. I was never the type to chat up a random stranger, and that's not going to change."

"How do you know? You're a completely different person than you were the last time you dated. Who knows?" She leaned forward. "You might find a willing bloke and have a one-night stand."

"Pansy!" Her cheeks burned and she shushed her friend. "I highly doubt it. I got that out of my system with Cassius."

Pansy snorted. "Please. Why on earth would fabulous sex ever be out of your system?"

Hermione leveled her with a look. "As though finding a stranger for a one-off is a guarantee? I don't think so."

"Fair point. But if you want, I can find you someone that will be guaranteed to give you a night to remember." She smirked, and Hermione had no doubt that Pansy was as good as her word.

"I don't want to remember a night with a stranger, Pansy." She sighed again. "That's my point. Yes, it sounds enjoyable, but I want my heart to be involved. That's just where I am, and I won't apologize for it. I mean, how would you feel?"

Pansy shrugged dismissively. "I can't imagine. I mean, my sex life is fantastic. Percy is a bloody freak. I don't know why anybody he'd dated before let him go. That man lives to make me scream."

"I did not need all that detail." Hermione cringed. "I knew you two shared a healthy relationship, but... remember, he was my brother-in-law until very recently."

"Oh, Granger. Those weren't details. Those were very broad statements that can't possibly encapsulate what he's like. I don't usually share, because nobody would believe me, but I know you won't tell." Pansy leaned in, smirking. "It's always the quiet ones. I never would have thought you and Cassius would connect, and yet you did."

"Well, that didn't last long, did it?"

"No, but I _know_ it was incredible. I've heard stories from other women about him. And—"

Hermione held up a hand. "Pansy, I'm sure you mean well, but I don't want to talk about my sex life for the entire meal."

Pansy pursed her lips. "Alright. Fine. But you could do with a shag. That's all I'm going to say."

"And you've said it. We can move on."

"One more thing."

Hermione let out an impatient breath.

"Hear me out. Hermione, I... I just want you to promise me that you'll be open to something. That you won't shut your heart away. If someone comes along who sparks any kind of interest you'll listen to that. Promise me." She looked so earnest that Hermione didn't immediately dismiss her.

She wistfully imagined a different kind of relationship than the one she had with Ron—and all of the other men she'd dated seriously as well. She wanted someone to make her laugh and take her breath away, someone to listen to what she had to say with genuine interest, someone who would never get tired of hearing her thoughts and ideas. Well, maybe _never_ was asking a bit much, but she would set a certain standard, and she would stick to it. Because she deserved exactly what would make her happiest.

"I promise, Pansy. Thank you for being such a good friend.

Pansy nodded succinctly. "Now that we've settled that, we can talk about something else."

The afternoon flew by. Before Hermione realized it, the time had come to pick up Rose and Lila. As she and Pansy waited outside the school, Hermione nudged her friend. "I know you forbade me from asking about today, but how about now? Can you tell me what you have planned?"

Pansy winked mischievously. "Not yet. You still have to wait and see. I don't think there will be any complaints, though, from you or the girls."

Rose and Lila came bursting out of the building talking non-stop to each other. Hermione smiled at the image, thankful that her daughter had friends who understood her and knew about magic and so didn't think it was strange when unexpected, inexplicable things happened—even if that friend was also a cousin.

"Hello, girls. Are you ready to go?" Pansy beamed at them, her eyes twinkling with delight at the secret she'd been holding in. "We're going to a salon to have our nails and hair done!" Rose and Lila looked at each other and squealed. "Then after that, we go to Madam Puddifoot's for a proper Girls Only high tea. How does that sound?"

The girls thanked Pansy and jumped up and down in excitement.

"Well? What are we waiting for?" Pansy pulled an old cassette tape out of her bag and held it up. "Portkey leaves in two minutes!"

* * *

After a truly memorable and fun afternoon, the girls wanted to stop in Honeydukes. They'd been in the store for three minutes, and Hermione stepped away from Pansy to check out a new display in the back. There were a lot of Weasley children, and she wanted to bring them all a little something if she ended up attending the family dinner on Sunday.

After a few minutes, Pansy's squeal drew her attention.

"Draco! I can't believe you're here!"

Hermione's heart instantly started racing. Draco? What was he doing in Honeydukes in the middle of the week?

"I do live very near here, Pans."

She was hidden from view but close enough to hear them quite well. Not wanting to be seen but curious, Hermione crept closer, keeping out of sight.

"I know that, of course. But it's a Wednesday afternoon. Don't you have potions to test? Students to terrify?"

"You know I don't take after Snape. And I'm completely caught up on my paperwork. Though I appreciate your concern." He paused, and Hermione wished she could see his face. "I'm here because I'm out of a few things. I've just come from Scrivenshafts and the apothecary."

"And now you're at the sweet shop?"

His responding chuckle was deep. "Some things don't change, Pansy."

Then Hermione heard Rose. "Aunt Pansy, do you know where my mother is?"

"I don't. What do you need?"

Rose heaved a heavy sigh. "I've found these two sweets, but I can't decide which one to choose."

Draco spoke. "Why not both?"

"Oh, hello, Mr. Malfoy. Mum didn't give me enough pocket money for both. I want to know which I should choose. Do you have an opinion?"

Hermione shut her eyes and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Oh, Rose. So honest and open.

"I do have an opinion." She heard the crinkling of paper and assumed he'd taken both sweets from Rose. Then she heard the clink of coins. "And it is this: why not both?"

Rose drew in an excited breath. "Oh, Mr. Malfoy! I don't know if my mother would approve."

It was time to show herself, but Hermione hesitated. Her heart was thundering in her chest like a herd of Hippogriffs; it would be the first time she saw him since she'd started telling Rose her story.

The last time had been a few weeks ago when they were together with a whole group of friends for a dinner party hosted by the Zabinis. She'd felt nothing special then, nothing beyond the dull ache and low level excitement she always felt around him. This would be an important moment in helping her understand herself. Phantom feelings from her memories would surely not translate into attraction for the man himself.

Still.

She was nervous.

Without thinking, she grabbed a package off the nearest shelf and pretended to be examining it as she walked toward the group.

Rose noticed her first and ran over. "Mum!"

Hermione looked up in time to stop herself before she ran over her daughter. "Rose! What is it?"

Speaking quietly so the others couldn't hear, Rose leaned up. "Mum, I wasn't sure which sweet I should get, because these are big and I only have enough for one, and I was looking for you, and I asked Aunt Pansy where you were but she was talking to Mr. Malfoy, and he said he'd give me the money to get both. May I?"

Hermione could feel all eyes on her. "Did you thank him?"

"Not yet because I hadn't asked you. May I have both?"

"I appreciate you talking to me apart from everyone. Yes, you may have both, but—"

Rose had already spun around and skipped back to Lila. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy! My mum said yes!"

Draco counted out a few coins and held them out. "Here you are, then."

Rose pocketed the money, her eyes shining, as Hermione continued toward Pansy and Draco. Her stomach was in knots, her heart racing, and she hadn't even looked at him properly yet.

She needed to get that part over with before reaching them, and she was only a few feet away. Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze, searching out his face. He was watching her, as they all were, and as soon as their eyes met, she felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Her pulse raced, her hands were sweaty, and her stomach felt like it was hosting a fireworks display.

He looked really good, a fact which her thundering heart delighted in pointing out. Unwilling to betray herself any more than she already was, Hermione quickly looked away, focusing instead on Rose, who was chattering nonstop with Lila.

"Hermione, look who I found!" Pansy clutched Draco's arm as though he were a prize she'd won. It reminded her of how they were in school, and Hermione bristled slightly.

"Hello, Draco."

"Granger." He nodded to her, biting down hard on the first sound in her surname. Even though she had been married for over ten years, he'd never quite got around to changing the way he addressed her.

"Thank you for your kindness to Rose." She smiled politely, ignoring what was happening in her mind and heart.

"Anytime."

"Mum, can we go buy our treats?" Lila asked Pansy.

"It's fine with me if it's alright with Rose's mum."

Both girls turned to her with excited expressions. Rose was so excited she was practically trembling. "Mum?"

"Of course, go on." The girls darted away, and she felt a twinge at how the simple joy of an extra treat had made her daughter so elated. Maybe she should ease up a bit and say yes more often; it was only a few sweets, after all.

Pansy turned to Draco. "Did you get everything you need? Is this your last stop before going back up to the castle?"

"That's correct. I'm here because I'm out of Sugar Quills." He grinned. "You know how I can't go too long without one."

"You _can_ , but you're such a big child that you _won't_." Pansy rolled her eyes.

He chuckled. "I've gone without plenty of times. But if I don't have to, why should I?"

Lila called for her mother, and Pansy excused herself, leaving Hermione alone with Draco. Her stomach swooped, and she felt her mind go entirely blank; she couldn't think of anything to say.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to have any trouble. "What brings you to Hogsmeade today?"

"Oh, Pansy invited Rose and me to join her and Lila for some girl time. We had our nails done—" Hermione flashed her hand at him, free and clear of any metal bands. "—which was fun. The girls had a great time. Pansy also let them get their hair done in fancy styles, as I'm sure you noticed when they were over here. She and I had massages during that, and it was nice to just relax."

He was looking at her intently. "And did you enjoy all of that?"

"It's definitely not something I like to do very often, but it is nice to take time and focus on me. And I know Pansy was thinking of me and wanting to do something to take my mind off… other things." For some reason, the thought of mentioning her divorce to him felt extremely strange. "We went to Madam Puddifoot's afterwards for tea, and that was nice. We just stopped in here because… well, it's Honeydukes." She smiled.

"Good. I hope you didn't feel pressured to accept the knuts."

"Oh, not at all. I have no problems saying no. I might be a little too good at it." She cringed slightly, remembering how happy the simple gift of an extra treat had made Rose. Saying yes to such things definitely wasn't the norm for her.

"How was tea time? The last time I saw the tea house, it was decorated like cupid threw up all over it." He scratched his temple. "That was two weeks ago."

Hermione grimaced. "It's still that way. An explosion of pink and red. Naturally the girls loved it."

He shifted his weight slightly. "Oh, I've been meaning to ask if you'd read the article in last month's Potionology about—"

"Merlin, no wonder you're single." Pansy returned just then with a huff, interrupting and rolling her eyes at Draco. "Nobody wants to hear about boring, tedious, scholarly articles except you."

Hermione's eyes shot wide, and Draco scoffed.

"Honestly, I'm gone for half a minute, and you're already trying to bore Hermione to death." Pansy gave Draco a severe look. "Well, I forbid it. Not today."

Hermione desperately wanted to interject and say that she really wanted to hear what he was going to say, but Pansy was already talking again.

"Let me guess. You scared off that woman at the pub last week with some story about which brewing method is best for wart-removal potion or something equally dreadful." She shook her head at Hermione.

Draco chuckled incredulously. " _What?_ "

"You remember. At the pub? Tell me you didn't bore her with talk of scholarly journals, Draco."

"What woman?"

"The one with black hair? When we went out last week, she was chatting you up. Didn't you even notice?" Pansy shook her head as though utterly annoyed with him. "Honestly, Draco. She was very interested in you! You could have easily gone home with her. How long were you two talking, anyway? Had to be at least fifteen minutes!"

He raised an eyebrow, his expression amused. "I didn't once mention the article in The England Journal of Herbology about the best practices for cultivating Lacewing Flowers."

Pansy rolled her eyes so hard it almost gave Hermione a headache. "But why didn't you seal the deal?"

"Seal the deal? I wasn't interested, Pansy." Draco gave her a pointed look.

"Do you _want_ to be single forever, though? I've lost count of how many women you didn't pursue when their interest was obvious."

"Pansy."

Hermione winced slightly at the warning edge to his tone. But Pansy was either oblivious or unintimidated; she probably had a lot of experience with him shutting her down on this topic and didn't want to see it happen again.

"I'm serious! In the last few years, I've watched you, and I have yet to see you _act!_ And don't give me some lame excuse about Astoria wrecking your heart or something. I think you're fine."

"That's enough." He spoke quietly, yet his words were so sharp, so final, that Hermione could tell even Pansy understood the threat in them this time.

Even so, Pansy clearly wanted to protest or argue further, but when Draco's stern expression turned to a glare, she sighed. "Well, anyway. I'm going to check on the girls. You can continue talking about your boring research articles. It's only Hermione." With a flippant, dismissive wave, she stalked off.

They stood in silence, Hermione feeling more awkward as the seconds ticked on. It stung a little that Pansy had so casually dismissed Hermione as being incapable of drawing his attention.

But Draco seemed to relax as soon as Pansy left, even going so far as to give Hermione a half smile. "As I was saying before that unpleasant interruption, there was an article about the use of potions in aiding with memory restoration."

Hermione immediately put Pansy's comments out of her mind. "Really? What did it say?"

He considered her for a moment, then shifted his weight. "It's been a week since I read it. Why don't I send it to you? I'd just botch it up if I tried to recount everything in it."

"That sounds absolutely fine. Thank you." She bit back the urge to ask him if she could come up to the castle and get it now. That was out of the question, really; she had Rose with her, and what would be the point?

"What goodies are you in need of from here?" She glanced around the store, pretending she hadn't overheard him mention Sugar Quills, and her eyes fell on a colorful display of them close by. She nodded toward it with a smile. "I remember how much you liked those!"

He grinned, and the action sent a wave of warmth all through her, as though to remind her that she was rediscovering that she cared more for him than just as a friend. "Do you remember the time we snuck over here in the middle of the week?"

"We loaded our bags with sweets, and yours was over half full of those!"

"That map of Potter's was bloody fabulous. Are you going to give it to Rose?"

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "Merlin, no. At least, not for a few years anyway."

"I'll have to keep an extra eye on her when you do, then." His eyes twinkled.

"You wouldn't dock points for something you yourself did, would you?"

He put a hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Granger, I'm astonished. You broke far more rules than I did in school."

She started to retort, but Pansy returned then. "Draco, I apologize for pestering you. I hope you know it's only because I care."

He arched an eyebrow. "Yes, I know. Well, I should get what I came for and head back."

"Oh, must you?" Pansy grabbed his arm as though he were trying to leave right that second. "Have hot chocolate with us?"

His eyes went wide with surprise, darting to Hermione for a heartbeat before returning to Pansy. "Oh, I can't. I've got to speak with a few people tonight before dinner. It was nice seeing you, Pansy, Granger." With a brief nod, he left then to begin his shopping.

Pansy found the girls and they all left Honeydukes, headed for The Three Broomsticks for hot chocolate. It was well before any rush, so the girls sat at a different table.

"I hate seeing Draco lonely." Pansy sighed heavily.

"He seemed alright to me." Hermione had never thought of him as lonely before; he didn't give off that vibe, though she assumed Pansy knew him better and might have insight she didn't have access to.

Pansy gave her a look. "The man hasn't seriously dated since Astoria. It's been three years! Wouldn't you be lonely?"

"I can't really say. He may be absolutely fine, content with his situation in life. Has he said anything to suggest otherwise?"

"Well, no. But I know him so well. He's like a brother to me, kind of like Harry is to you." Pansy appeared genuinely distressed. "I want him to be happy."

"What makes you think he's not?"

"Sometimes, I see his guard down. I'll see him lose his train of thought when there's a family with small children nearby. He gets this wistful look in his eyes. I know he wants that." Pansy smiled fondly at some memory. "He doesn't get that way when there are a lot of people around. I've only seen it on a few recent occasions, when just the two of us are out together. And almost all of his friends are married with children. It must be difficult. You know what it's like when he's around the lot of us."

Hermione knew exactly what Pansy meant. She'd seen him interact with children every time he'd attended the major Weasley gatherings. Even though he wasn't tied to any of them, Pansy had secured him a permanent invitation to anything and everything the Weasleys did. Like they had done so many times with so many others, Arthur and Molly had welcomed him in as a member of their extended family, thanks to his connections with Pansy and Blaise.

His attendance was sporadic; nobody ever knew when he would show up, but it was usually a grand affair. Invariably, a child would notice his arrival first and squeal with delight, drawing the attention of the other children, who would then be so excited that they alerted everyone else.

Draco never showed up empty-handed. He always brought a gift for Arthur, usually something old and Muggle, and a bottle of wine for Molly.

Once greetings and those two gifts were given, the children would crowd around him as he passed out copious amounts of sweets. Then he'd tell stories to the older kids of his travel adventures, then listen to all the younger ones tell stories or show him new things they'd made since last seeing him.

He always responded with kindness and patience, with as much enthusiasm for the last demonstration as for the first. He was like a favorite uncle, though without the actual title—in fact, he expressly forbade any of them using that moniker, preferring to be called simply Mr. Draco.

When he'd been with Astoria, he sometimes brought her, but more often than not, he was alone. Hermione didn't interact with him much at these events, as he primarily stayed around the children or Pansy and Blaise.

Though, there had definitely been a few times a year when they ended up talking, but never about anything serious with so much family around. Hermione had always felt glad that they could interact as though nothing had ever happened between them.

It was at Ministry events or dinner parties—where the kids were long tucked asleep—that they were most likely to be found in deep conversation. Sometimes continuing a discussion—either a recent one or one from their old letters—other times picking up something completely new, but always easy. She found she could always talk to him, if it had been a day since they last spoke or six months. It was as if no time ever passed between them. da Granted Ron was never far, nor Astoria when he was with her, but it was here when their friendship forged in eight year shone.

Those were the occasions Harry had referred to when she'd confessed her recent fixation on Draco.

"Maybe he hasn't met the right person," Hermione said, not really knowing what to say to Pansy.

Pansy pursed her lips. "I know that. In my head. But I get anxious. I want to make it better. And he's dated plenty since Astoria; he's let me fix him up many times."

A rumble of jealousy awoke in Hermione at this news.

"He'll go out with them, but it rarely goes beyond a single date. He tells me he had a nice time, but then nothing ever materializes from it." Pansy groaned in frustration. "Sometimes I suspect he only agrees so I'll leave him alone."

Hermione cringed. "He didn't seem thrilled with your questions about the woman from last week."

"No. I suppose I should leave him alone. I know I push him too much. I know I did it again today. But I just… I don't know, I get these sharp feelings of anxiety over him." She groaned. "But I _also_ know he wants more! Why doesn't he try?"

"I can't answer that. He may just... not be ready. And you can't force him. Grief and healing have no timeline." Hermione had been on the edge of her seat for most of the conversation, more interested than she really ought to be about Draco's love life. On one hand, she didn't want Draco to be unhappy. On the other, it sounded as though he _did_ want to find someone, to have all the things his friends had, but for whatever reason, he hadn't. She wondered if he'd suffered a tragic loss, or maybe he loved someone deeply who never reciprocated his feelings, and he was left to wander the earth without her.

She really needed to stop watching so many romantic films. They were so unrealistic. Draco had gone through a very public romance with Astoria, and he might have missed what he thought he had with her.

Pansy sighed, the annoyance she'd been displaying evaporating. "I know. But what if it were Harry? And you _knew_ , deep down, he wasn't truly happy? Even if he loved his job, loved his friends, had a life he truly enjoyed—you know something is missing."

"I'm... sure it would bother me. And I'd talk to him about it." Hermione put her hand on Pansy's. "But in the end, that's all I could do. I can't make him fill that void. I can't force him to do what _I_ think he should do. He has to choose it for himself. And, for his sake, I hope Draco does."

"You're right, of course," Pansy said ruefully. "You usually are." She paused, then looked as though she might start up again, but then shook her head. "No. Never mind. Let's have dinner, yeah? It's practically time, and we're here."

Hermione grinned. "Yes, let's."

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind them, Rose clapped her hands. "Tonight I get to hear all about Elliot! I can't wait!"

Hermione smiled. "You know the drill. The story will resume once you're all ready and in bed."

Rose beamed and nodded, then hurriedly put her cloak and school bag away before darting towards the bathroom.

The day had been lovely, with many unexpected twists—namely, running into and then hearing all about Draco. She wondered at everything Pansy had said, couldn't begin to guess why he was single if he didn't want to be. Surely he could draw the attention of almost any witch he wanted. There had been the woman at the pub Pansy mentioned, for starters.

Of course, deep down, Hermione didn't _want_ him to get serious with some random woman, even though she had no reason to hope he might look her way. But the way she'd felt when their eyes met in Honeydukes had left no doubt in her mind: she could easily find herself interested in him again, as she had been once.

"Mum! I'm all set!"

Hermione smiled to herself and made her way to Rose's room. Her daughter was sitting up in bed, her notes and a quill at the ready.

"Do you have any theories so far?" Hermione sat down in the armchair next to the bed, pulling a blanket into her lap.

"I... may have one or two. I have a good feeling about Elliot."

Hermione nodded. "Alright then, let's get started. We left our story—"

"With you and Joey breaking up. After he saw you with Elliot. He must have known he couldn't stand in the way of true love!" She giggled.

"Something like that, anyway." Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy for Cassius, but it quickly dissipated. They wouldn't have made each other happy. "So, yes. But Elliot didn't approach me right away, which confused me. He wrote to me, regularly, his letters containing information about his life and asking me about mine."

"Luke was also writing to you during this time, wasn't he?" Rose's quill was scratching as she jotted something down.

"That's right. Elliot didn't write nearly as much as Luke, and his letters were very different."

"How so?"

Hermione considered the question carefully before replying. "Elliot's letters... I realized later that they had a goal in mind. He wanted to ask me out, but since we'd been friends when we were younger, he was trying to decide if it was possible I could feel something for him. Luke and I were just writing as friends do, talking about anything and everything."

"I don't know about that." Rose frowned down at her notes.

"About what?"

"You and Luke writing solely as friends. But I'm still sorting that one out. So, go on. You and Elliot wrote letters." Rose leaned back against her headboard, fully attentive.

"Joey and I broke up in December, and Elliot didn't ask me out until March."

* * *

Viktor had asked to meet her for coffee, and if she were honest with herself, she was disappointed. He'd been hinting at coming to visit for weeks, and when he finally reached England, he'd asked her to _coffee_.

She didn't even like coffee.

But she'd agreed because she couldn't stop thinking about him, about the easy way he'd been with her before, the intense desire she'd read plainly in his eyes.

She might have been mistaken. Perhaps it was only friendship he saw there. But then, some of the things he'd said had led her to believe he was interested. Still, it was three months later, and they were only having _coffee_ , not dinner.

Hermione arrived first, but she didn't have to wait at the entrance long. Viktor showed up a few minutes later, his face bursting into a wide grin when he saw her.

"Herm-owny!" He wrapped her in his large arms, a breath longer than strictly necessary, making her pulse race.

"Viktor." She smiled up at him, feeling her heart skip.

"Shall we?" He motioned towards the door and when she nodded, led her inside.

They ordered drinks at the counter—Hermione choosing a cup of tea, Viktor asking for a cup of strong, black coffee—and sat down to wait.

"How have you been, Viktor?"

"Good, but better now that I see you. December feels a long time ago, yes?"

"It does, you're right." She had learned to ignore the stares of curious people long ago, but now more than the usual number of onlookers were openly gawking at them. That came with being seen in public with the international Quidditch favorite.

He gave her his crooked grin, the one that had charmed her in fourth year. "I'm glad to be here now, though. With you. And, I have a little news for you. I've taken a one-year contract with Puddlemere United. The season starts in two weeks—I'm moving here tomorrow."

Hermione gasped lightly. "Um, what? You're moving where?"

"Here. England! I thought about speaking with you about it, but thought the surprise would be fun." With no preamble whatsoever, he put his hand on top of hers. "Herm-owny, I saw the articles about you and Warrington. I know you felt something the night of the dance."

Her heart was pounding, and she was completely stunned. "You… But you're _moving_ here? From Bulgaria?" That was all she could say because there were so many thoughts racing in her mind that she couldn't land on anything else.

He took her silence for approval and beamed. "Yes, _moyata silna_. I hope it's okay that I didn't tell you."

"You… moved here to play Quidditch, right?" She wanted to be absolutely sure on this point.

"Well, I can play Quidditch anywhere. I moved here for _you_." For a moment, his confidence wavered. "I hope this is okay. Did I misread the situation from last time? And your letters?"

"No!" She blushed furiously, unable to keep a smile off her face. "You didn't misread. I'm just… overwhelmed! Wow, this is… this is huge!"

"So, do you want to be official, then?" His crooked grin flashed once more.

She bit her lip, conscious of the stares, the occasional flash of light indicating that someone was taking photos.

Though she felt sparks from his hands on hers, she thought a little more was needed before she could say yes. "I think we ought to kiss and make absolutely sure."

* * *

"Wait. He changed jobs to be closer to you?" Rose was frowning at her notes, brow furrowed in concentration.

"He did, yes. Why?" Hermione tried to see what Rose was writing.

"Oh, nothing. That's just very interesting." She gave her mother a very serious look. "And how did you feel about that? He didn't even ask."

"That's true." Hermione smiled. "It was definitely overwhelming, but that feeling didn't last long. Elliot was always very considerate of my feelings, wanted to make sure I was alright with things."

"So what happened then? I'm guessing your picture was in the paper the next day." Rose smirked.

"It was, yes. Elliot moved flats and started his new job; everything was going smoothly. Our relationship grew stronger, and we got closer and closer."

Rose frowned again. "I'm sensing a 'but' coming. Wait, you were writing Luke this whole time, right? Where does he fit in this story?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Luke? I mean, we were writing, as you said, but nothing more."

"Did you ever see him? What was he doing all this time? Did he have anything to say after things ended with Joey?" Rose's persistent questions gave Hermione pause.

She hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary with Draco following the end of her relationship with Cassius. "I'm not really sure. We didn't talk about those things very much. He was mostly traveling, finding odd jobs here and there for his father that took him around the world. In his letters, he always sounded like he was having a great time and really loving his life."

"So after seeing him at that Quidditch game, you never saw him again?" Rose was peering at her intently.

It was slightly unnerving. "Well, I did see him once. I think Elliot and I had been together a little over a year, though I don't remember specifics." She paused. "No, wait, it was July. The following year. I remember now because... Well, it's part of my story with Elliot."

"Ooh, do tell me about that, please!"

"I will, of course, but... Why are you so interested in Luke right now?"

"I'm curious. I liked him. And he's not completely out of the story, is he?" Rose tapped her notes with the feather end of her quill. "He keeps showing up. Why did he stop writing to you?"

That was a question Hermione had always wondered, as well, but she'd never worked up the nerve to ask him.

"Well, I'll tell you what I remember, and you can try and figure it out. I _will_ say that he keeps showing up because you keep asking about him! Now, let's see. It was a very important day because, after being with Elliot for seventeen months, he had planned a very special evening, and I had a feeling he and I were about to have a very important conversation."

Rose's eyes slowly went wide as saucers. "Is he... Is Elliot my father?"

"Let me tell the story, yeah?" Hermione tried to smile, but knowing what came next tempered her enthusiasm.

* * *

Hermione's position in the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was tedious, at best. She'd gone in with high hopes, but after a few years of drudgery, was starting to wonder if it was the right place for her.

Today, though, she had much to look forward to after work ended, and the day was almost over. Only forty-seven minutes remained—not that she was counting.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up to see Gertrude at her desk, an odd expression on her face. "Yes?"

"There's a visitor for you. He's not an employee, so he wasn't allowed in." Her lips were pressed tightly, reminding Hermione of McGonagall.

"I see. Thank you."

Gertrude hesitated as though she wanted to speak, but decided not to, turning on her heels and stomping away in a huff.

Hermione shook her head, not interested in trying to sort out what her problem was. She went to the reception area, wondering who could have come to see her. When she rounded the corner, she saw a tall man standing with his back to her. He was flipping through a magazine that had been on a side table, and his jacket had a high collar, preventing her from seeing any of his features.

She cleared her throat. "Hello, there."

The man spun on his heel, a wide grin on his face, and her heart leapt into her throat. "Draco!" She took a half-step toward him, her first instinct to hug him, before remembering that they were hardly on such familiar terms. Instead, she continued to give him what she could only describe as a ridiculous smile.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm and gave a small nod. "Granger."

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Brazil!"

"I was, but I had something of an epiphany." He glanced sideways at Gertrude, who was glaring at them. "Can we... go somewhere?"

"Yes, absolutely." She quickly glanced at the nearest clock. "It's almost five, and it's not every day an old friend comes to visit! Let me just grab my things."

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and casting a wary glance toward the receptionist.

With a bounce in her step, Hermione hurried to her desk and packed her things. Her day had just got infinitely better—what was Draco even doing there? She'd thought he was in Brazil for the next few months, working on a deal for his father. It was probably just a short vacation, though it struck her as odd that he'd come by on a Thursday.

As she headed back out of her office, Gertrude intercepted her, a severe frown on her face.

"Will you be seeing Mr. Krum this evening?"

Hermione almost laughed out loud. She'd forgotten, or become desensitized to, the fact that Gertrude was a huge fan of Viktor and had followed their relationship closely in the papers. "Why yes, I am. We've got dinner plans at the nicest restaurant in Diagon Alley!"

She could tell Gertrude wanted to say more, but Hermione didn't give her a chance. She was too elated at seeing Draco to worry about what the receptionist thought of him coming to visit; clearly, the older witch didn't approve.

"I'm ready!"

"Great. I hope it wasn't too much trouble." He led the way out of the department and down the hall towards the lift.

"Not at all. I love any excuse to leave early, and I can get started on a few errands sooner. Where did you want to go?"

He shrugged. "I'm not particular. Just away from that woman's disapproving stare. Where do you need to go?"

Hermione bit her lip and pulled out her list, flipping to the right page. "Let's see. Twilfitt & Tattings is my primary destination. If there's time, I really need to stop at Gringotts, and of course, I'd love to go to Flourish & Blotts." She gave him a mischievous grin. "Though I suspect that's pushing it a bit, considering I have dinner plans at half seven."

He snorted. "Like you could ever go to Diagon without stopping there."

"Exactly. Now." She put the list away and motioned for him to follow her. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Let's knock off your errands first. I know how you are when you're on a mission." He grinned, his white-blond hair falling loosely in his face.

She nodded, all business. "Right. Well, there's a book I've requested that should help me answer your latest letter. I really hope to get to the book shop because I've got an entire outline started."

She felt him chuckle, the rumble deep in his body. "Of course you do."

"Don't you do the same?" She looked up at him in earnest. "I'm serious. When you write. Tell me you don't just spout that stuff off the top of your head. Tell me you research and agonize over every line."

Draco laughed, the sound clear and free. "Sometimes I do. But usually... It's just in my head." She started to protest but he cut her off. "I don't mean to say I know all these laws and bylaws, theories and essays by heart. I do read, almost constantly, so I can keep up with you. But I don't need to put my arguments down before I write. That's all. It just comes out, already formed."

She huffed. "Alright, then. That's tolerable. I'll allow it."

"Phew. I dodged one there." He smirked, and the simple expression sent a wave of fluttery nerves through her.

Really, she was merely excited to see him, that was all. It meant nothing.

They talked easily as he tagged along, making comments and jokes about things they saw, until they came to her goal: Twilfitt & Tattings.

"I don't think you'll be much help in here." She bit her lip. "I need a dress."

He rolled his eyes and opened the door. "I can help. Pansy likes to drag me around shopping at every opportunity, and she often wants my opinion."

A niggle of jealousy stirred inside her. "Pansy? You... see her a lot?" She was flipping through the rack, not paying much attention.

"Not really. Sometimes she comes to wherever I am under the guise of seeing me, but she ends up spending most of her time shopping. Which is fine with me, I'm working most days anyway." He made a face. "Have _you_ seen her lately?"

"Me?" She blinked in surprise. "Why would I see her?"

"I'm not sure, she won't give me a straight answer, but I think she's dating someone." Now a wave of relief flooded through her. "Someone you know."

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea who it might be."

A dark blue dress on another rack caught her eye, and she moved to get a better look.

"Someone with red hair." He gave her a meaningful look.

"Red hair? A Weasley? Well, which one?" The dress was tea length, with a cream silk base and a midnight blue shimmery layer over it. The overlay looked like it was run through with stars. The bodice was an off-the-shoulder style with cuff sleeves.

"I can't sort that out. One of the older ones, I think. Not _Weasley_ -Weasley."

"Well, they're all older than him." Her heart was beating very fast as she took in the dress. This was a very important dinner, and she just had a feeling Viktor was going to ask her to marry him. He'd been dropping all kinds of hints lately—unintentionally, of course; subtlety was not his forte.

"That's... stunning, Granger."

She glanced away from the mirror, where she was admiring the reflection of herself holding the dress in front of her, to look at him.

His expression was carefully guarded, but his eyes were intense, something in them she'd never seen before.

"Should I try it on?"

Draco arched an eyebrow and looked away, frowning at something on the other side of the room. "If you want. I don't think you need to, though. It's perfect for you. Looks like it was designed with you in mind." There was something in his tone she couldn't place; an odd, strained quality.

"I need to try it on."

He motioned towards the dressing room.

Hermione hurried inside a stall. She'd been excited to see how the dress looked on her, but now she was distracted. There was something in Draco's mannerism just now that spoke to her, but she couldn't imagine what it was.

"What were you saying about Pansy?"

Draco didn't respond right away, so she hurriedly started taking off her clothes.

"I suspect it's the uptight one."

Hermione barked a laugh. "Percy? Really?"

"It's... just a hunch. She ignores my questions completely, which, honestly, was my first big hint."

The dress went on without a hitch, the buttery soft fabric sliding over her skin. When she looked in the mirror, she gasped softly. The way it made her feel—powerful, beautiful, soft, and bold—left no doubt in her mind. This was the dress for dinner tonight.

"So there I am, half-heartedly trying to pry the truth from Pansy—because that's what she wants, for me to pester her repeatedly so she can deny me, repeatedly—it's a thing—and with the other half of my mind, I'm composing my next letter to you. I'm in the middle of trying to placate Pansy and compose a complex argument on the benefits versus the pitfalls of adapting Muggle electricity, and I realized something."

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping out of the dressing room.

Draco stopped talking, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. "Hermione. Fuck."

She raised an eyebrow, then spun to see herself in the better mirror. "Very eloquent, Draco. I take it you like it?" Glancing at him in the mirror, she bit her lip, anxious to hear his opinion.

He swallowed hard. "Incidentally, uh, what occasion is this dress for?"

Draco's question made her stomach swoop. She imagined Viktor, dashing in his best dress robes, eyes twinkling over the candlelight, his hand extending toward hers.

"Viktor and I are having dinner tonight."

There was a long pause. "Viktor?"

She caught his eye again, frowning slightly. "Yes. Viktor Krum? Remember him?"

"I wasn't aware you were still seeing him."

"Oh? I never said we'd broken up." She chuckled nervously, feeling awkward for some reason. Then she returned to the dressing room and started changing back into her clothes.

"No, I... suppose not. But you didn't mention him much, and then after awhile, you stopped completely."

Hermione chuckled and stepped out, the dress once more on its hanger. "We had so much else to talk about. I didn't think it was relevant to the conversation."

He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the dress as they waited so she could pay. "Where is he taking you that you need a dress like that?"

"Just dinner. But... Draco, can I tell you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"I think Viktor is going to ask me to marry him! Tonight!"

"Will that be all?" A sales clerk interrupted, holding her hand out for the garment.

"Yes, thank you." Hermione handed it over and pulled out a sack of Galleons.

"One hundred twenty Galleons and fourteen Sickles, please." The dress was placed into a garment bag, and the sales clerk cast a few anti-wrinkle charms on it to keep it pressed nicely.

Hermione handed over the gold, then took her purchase. "Thank you!"

Draco followed her wordlessly from the store.

"Is everything okay?"

He smiled warmly. "I'm sorry. It's a bit of a shock, that's all. I didn't even realize you were still together, and here you tell me he's going to propose. And judging by that dress you just bought, I can guess your answer."

"Oh! Um, you didn't?" She felt a little bad. For some reason, one she didn't quite understand, she'd not talked about Viktor in their letters. It felt… strange, honestly, telling Draco—a man she'd once fancied, one she felt drawn to even now—about her love life. They'd had so many other wonderful, incredible things to share.

"No. I don't really follow Quidditch much anymore, and I certainly keep away from society news and gossip. Besides, I've been all over the world, and, no offence, but you're not as popular as you think you are." He gave her a teasing smile.

She swatted his arm playfully. "You mean you don't search out articles about me? I'm shocked." His smile was real, but it wasn't a full one. She decided he was probably tired from his trip. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Hm? Oh. That." He waved with a chuckle. "It was nothing. Just something I can say in the letter."

"How long are you home? I'm shocked Brazil let you leave. I know things are really busy down there. We should do something. We could find a used book store and look for my book." She nudged him with her elbow.

"Not terribly long, I'm afraid. You're right, things are quite hectic." He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't know my exact schedule. I've got to report to my father, of course. I can let you know if some free time springs up."

"Great! Please do!" She checked her watch. "Well, I should go. I need to get ready. It was so great seeing you, Draco." As carefully as she could do as not to disturb her dress, she wrapped her arms around him.

"You too, Granger."

"Are you... happy for me?"

He pulled back and held her at arm's length, his expression serious as he gazed into her eyes. "Yes, of course I am. If Krum is the one you want, then I'm thrilled for you."

* * *

"Poor Luke!"

Hermione was surprised at the interruption; she hadn't even gotten to the proposal yet. "What do you mean?"

Rose threw up her hands as though it were so obvious. "Luke! After everything—all those letters, putting his heart out there for you, he is destined to remain just the friend." Rose sighed dramatically. "But when did he stop writing to you? I bet it was after Elliot proposed."

"Wait... What do you mean, putting his heart out there?" Hermione could hardly breathe.

"Weren't you listening? He came home for you!" Rose hurried to scribble a few things on her notes, then examined them. "Did you not know?"

Hermione felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Now, she could look back at the situation, removed from the heightened emotions of expecting a proposal, and see what Rose meant. Only, it simply wasn't possible. "I... no, Rose, I'm sure you're mistaken." She stood up, feeling hot and frantic, and started straightening up the room.

"I don't think so, Mum. I mean, I'm not an expert, but look at the facts." Rose held up her hand and raised one finger. "He wanted to talk to you in person so much that he came all the way from Brazil." Second finger. "He was in the middle of telling you he'd had this realization, and you were completely distracted and oblivious." Third finger. "He stopped telling you as soon as he saw you in the dress because it made _him_ realize there was something going on." Fourth finger. "He never actually told you what he'd come all the way from Brazil, to your office, to tell you."

Hermione put on her best smile. "I think someone has been watching too many silly movies and seeing things that aren't there. Time for bed."

"What!? But Mum, you haven't even told me about Elliot proposing!"

"It will have to wait. It's getting late, and you need your sleep." She busied herself tucking Rose under the covers. "Tomorrow, love."

Rose frowned severely. "You said you and Elliot were going to have a very important conversation that night! I want to know what it was about!"

"I'm sorry, Rose. Time got away from me, and we had a full afternoon. It's only Wednesday; I can't have you tired for tomorrow." She kissed her daughter's forehead and smiled softly. "I love you. I promise you will get the full story."

"Alright. I believe you. I love you, too."

"Goodnight, dear."

"Night, Mum."

Hermione shut the door behind her, which was a bit tricky considering how badly her hands were shaking. She stood in the hallway for a long while, eyes closed, trying to recall the exact memory of the conversation with Draco on the day Viktor proposed. But she was so flustered that nothing helpful materialized.

The letters from Draco hadn't ended abruptly after that day, but they had started to peter out soon after, though she didn't know for sure when. Hermione pulled the box of letters down and found all the letters from after the day when Draco had visited her in London. There were eleven or so, and they definitely grew more infrequent over the next few months, with a month passing between the last two.

How had she not noticed?

Well, the months following her engagement had been quite a blur, first of startling happiness, then settling into the excitement of planning a wedding, then a surprise announcement that had been the beginning of the end. It didn't surprise her that she hadn't noticed Draco's correspondence tapering off.

By the time the hurt had mended, months had passed, and she hadn't thought about much of anything beyond grieving and moving forward. Thoughts of Draco were few and far between.

But, surely, Rose had been wrong in thinking he'd come for _her_. In a certain light, perhaps, the strange coincidence _could_ give credence to Rose's theory, but it didn't seem likely. He'd come home for other reasons and wanted to see her, probably, because they were friends. He hadn't made some grand declaration, and she hadn't seen him again before he returned to Brazil.

It couldn't be.

Nothing about their interactions up to that point suggested that Draco had such an interest in her. It would have been completely out of the blue if he had arrived to confess something; and she'd been with Viktor, so nothing would have come of it, anyway.

Hermione shook her head and stuffed the letters back in the box. No. There was no point in wondering, no point in "what ifs." It was so long past that it didn't matter. Right?

Tomorrow, she would finish the story with Rose. She'd tell her about the breakup with Viktor and how she'd found solace and comfort with Ron, leading to their short engagement and marriage, culminating in Rose's birth.

And then, once it was all out, she'd stop having these residual feelings for Draco Malfoy, since they'd come to nothing in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

When Hermione's alarm went off, she opened her eyes to find Rose there, watching her. Her daughter hit the alarm button for her, then hesitantly sat on Hermione's bed.

"Can you tell me more this morning?" Her expression was a mixture of hope and resignation.

Hermione yawned. "Oh, Rose, it's too much to tell before school."

Rose regarded her thoughtfully. "I thought... I would hear about my father proposing to you today."

With a pang, she realized that Rose fully believed Viktor was her father, though it shouldn't have surprised her. It made perfect sense; she'd never mentioned having been engaged before Ron. Naturally, knowing that a proposal was coming, she'd assume it was her father.

"I'm sorry, love. It will have to wait."

Rose's face fell momentarily, then hardened into firm resolve. "But I will hear about my father today, won't I?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Today I will tell you the last part of the story."

"Alright, then." She stood. "I'm going to make breakfast."

Hermione chuckled and got up to get ready for the day.

Once she'd dropped Rose off at school, she returned home. Only now she felt very antsy in her flat; she'd already cleaned everything from top to bottom, and she didn't have any plans for her time. It wasn't the first time she'd been alone all week—she'd spent lots of time alone reading Draco's letters—but she found herself at a loss for what to do. That was different. As she looked around, desperately hoping for something to jump out at her, to call her attention in some way that would keep her mind steady, there was a tapping sound at the window.

Grateful for the distraction, she let the owl in, who flew away as soon as she'd released the letter from its leg. She recognized Ginny's handwriting immediately and quickly tore open the envelope.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_I'm including a Portkey for you. It's set to activate at nine-thirty sharp. All you need to bring with you is a book or something else to do. You'll be inside the whole time, unless you want to go out, so no need to bring anything heavy unless you just want to. More information will be available upon your arrival._

_Don't worry—you can trust me._

_Not like last time._

_Ginny_

* * *

Hermione chuckled at the last sentence of the brief note then looked for what Ginny might have sent as the Portkey. When she shook the envelope, a wrapper of some kind fell out. A quick glance at the clock revealed that she had about twenty-three minutes to decide if she was going to accept Ginny's offer or not. The thing was, Ginny was supposed to be at Quidditch practice right now. She had been playing for the Holyhead Harpies for about six years, and they were well into the season. Where might Ginny be taking her?

The curiosity was overwhelming, plus Hermione appreciated the opportunity to get out of her flat. She'd dealt with quite a bit two days earlier with Harry, but she was feeling uncharacteristically restless and knew that if she stayed home, she'd end up overthinking everything and fall into familiar, unpleasant thinking patterns. The most common mind pit was the voice in her head that told her she would never find anybody else. She knew, when she considered it logically, that she had a great chance of falling in love again, but there was an ever-present part of her that kept popping in to remind her of all of her deepest insecurities.

Still, she was absolutely going to accept the Portkey.

After collecting a small bag of things to take, Hermione prepared a cup of tea. Who knew if there would be anything halfway decent to drink wherever Ginny was sending her, and if her plan was anything like the last time, there'd be nothing worth speaking of.

When it came time to leave, Hermione gripped the candy wrapper like a lifeline. She felt the familiar pull behind her navel and closed her eyes to mitigate the disorienting experience.

She heard absolutely nothing when she landed. It was a blissful silence, unlike anything she'd experienced all week. For a moment, she tried to guess where Ginny had sent her, but then she heard a shrill whistle and knew immediately.

She turned her eyes, expecting to find herself in one of the private boxes in the Holyhead Quidditch stadium. She was, but to her surprise, the entire space had been altered. Gone was the usual decor of Harpies posters everywhere, luxurious yet still utilitarian stadium seats, and ubiquitous tables and chairs. In their place was a very comfortable looking sofa equipped with a chaise at one end. There were lots of blankets and pillows artfully arranged on it and a small end table with a lamp and a stack of books. In place of the usual table was a smaller one, on top of which was an ice bucket complete with a bottle of champagne and a single glass.

Hermione laughed. She crossed to the table and saw another note beside the ice.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_I don't care that it's too early to drink champagne. You successfully made it through your divorce from my brother, and you deserve it. Admit it, none of your other friends have been so thoughtful._

_I can only imagine how hard this week has been for you. I know how much you wrestled with this decision, and you know I believe it's for the best. Still, I know you've probably doubted and second-guessed everything this week, but I want you to stop. At least for a few hours._

_This box is yours for as long as you want it. I get a break around lunch time, so if you want me to join you, send a Patronus around one. If you'd rather be alone, that's fine too. I suspect you could use some time just for yourself._

_Just remember this, in case I don't get to tell you in person: there is life after the Weasleys. I know it sounds strange coming from me, but it's true. Harry's done great after we split and lots of ex-girlfriends of my brothers can testify to the same._

_I'm glad you took the Portkey._

_Ginny_

_P.S. When you're ready to eat, there's a menu on the stack of books. Just open it, tap it with your wand, and say what you want. The food will appear on the table._

* * *

Hermione smiled at how thoughtful her friends were. Each one had done something different to make her week pass pleasantly.

And it was true that she hadn't spent much time just for herself. When she wasn't with a friend, she'd been with Rose, and on the rare occasions without her daughter, she'd been reading through Draco's letters. It didn't quite count as alone time though; she'd been doing her best to distract herself from thinking too much.

Now she would accept Ginny's offer and take her suggestion. Spending some time in a new environment where nothing was familiar, nothing would trip a memory or make her think about anything, might be just the thing she needed.

Hermione poured herself a glass of champagne and went to the sofa to peruse the book offerings. To her surprise, she found not novels but various types of books. On top was a journal. Underneath that were a few books on self-care after a divorce. Then came a photo book of beautiful scenery around the world, and the last item—

Hermione blushed when she saw the latest issue of PlayWitch, a photo of a strapping man with dark hair on the cover wearing nothing but a shamrock held over his groin. There was a note stuck to the cover:

_I know this isn't really your thing, but my guess is it's been a long time since you saw a man naked. Enjoy._

She chuckled and reformed the stack, then took the journal off the top. Ginny had clearly put a lot of thought into prepping the room, and Hermione was deeply touched. She hadn't been worried that Ginny wouldn't be her friend anymore, though she knew that she was now removed from the full intimacy with the only family she really had anymore. But it seemed Ginny had no intention of letting anything change between them, and tears pricked her eyes.

The journal turned out to be more than just empty pages with reflection questions printed on some of the pages. They were tailored for someone going through a difficult time, and Hermione flipped through, finding a few she intended to answer. There were plenty of blank pages as well, and before she knew it, the words were flowing.

The time flew as she put her thoughts into the journal, writing out her fears and deepest hopes for the future. She didn't mention Draco by name, but he kept creeping up in her thoughts about what she hoped for her life. Mainly, she wanted the opportunity to show him what he'd missed out on before.

Even still, she hesitated to be very detailed about it, despite Rose's insistence that he'd felt something for her while she'd been with Viktor. That seemed unlikely, honestly. Nevertheless, the notion wouldn't leave her in peace.

The sound of another whistle drew her from her thoughts, and she saw that it was one. Hermione quickly sent Ginny a Patronus telling her she'd love to have lunch together.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded and a voice called out. "It's me, Hermione. You have to let me in."

Hermione rushed to open the door. Ginny was beaming at her and flung her arms around Hermione's neck as soon as she could.

"Oh, Ginny." She pulled away from her friend, trying unsuccessfully not to make a face.

"I know I smell. Hard not to get sweaty after practicing all morning." Ginny tromped into the box, eyeing it appreciatively. "Good, you've had a drink... or two. Let's eat. I could eat a Hippogriff."

Hermione rolled her eyes and fetched the menu. "I glanced in here earlier. Everything sounds delicious to me now."

"Sounds like you're hungry too." She took the menu and quickly placed an order. "I know everything they have here. Let me know if you have any questions about anything."

Hermione nodded but found something quickly without help. The food arrived almost immediately after ordering, and they sat down.

"What have you found to occupy yourself?" Ginny sent a sideways glance toward the stack of books, smirking slightly to see the PlayWitch undisturbed.

"The journal, mostly. It's been so good. Thank you, Ginny, for everything today." She smiled gratefully at her friend.

"You're welcome. It's not every day you break up with your childhood sweetheart." She grimaced slightly. "I still remember how hard it was to tell Harry I didn't love him."

Hermione let out a sigh. "I'll always love Ron, of course."

"But you two were a disaster. I'm amazed you lasted as long as you did, honestly."

"We did it for—"

"Rose, I know." Ginny put her hand on Hermione's wrist. "And she is so lucky to have you. But." She withdrew her hand and resumed eating. "Rose deserves to see you happy. And Ron. I hope the two of you can find something better than what you had." She smiled sadly.

"Yes, I definitely agree with you there." She shrugged and pushed some food around on her plate. "I've simply had other things to focus on for a long time. Finding someone else hasn't been all that urgent."

"I know. But now you can. You know we all want you to be happy."

Hermione bit her lip. "Your family does? Or just you?"

Ginny gave her an impatient look. "All of us. We all love you still, just as much as ever. Of course some are sadder than others—you know how mum is—but we've also seen everything. We've watched you and Ron over the years, and we all know and accept that you two aren't a good match."

"Harry said as much. And I know this has been a long time coming, that this is nothing new, but... it's final now. I can't help but think your mother had hoped we'd somehow magically work things out and decide not to go through with the divorce."

Ginny shrugged. "If she did, that's on her. Nobody else even whispered such a thought. At least not to me."

Hermione sighed. "I do know all of this. But... I still doubt. And worry."

"And overthink, yes, we all know." Ginny chuckled. "But we all genuinely love you. Are you coming on Sunday?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I think Ron ought to have one week without me there." She felt a sudden well of deep sadness; what would she do while Ron and Rose were at the Burrow? Even Harry would be there.

"You get one week." Ginny pointed her fork at Hermione. "Then I expect to see you back. We're still family, remember?"

"Yes, I know. Technically." She grimaced, suddenly not terribly hungry.

Ginny chewed thoughtfully for a long moment. "Listen. Let's be real. Someday, you're going to bring someone new to the Burrow. Ron will too." The very idea made her feel anxious. Ginny must have noticed. "I'm not saying it's going to be any time soon. But someday, it will happen. How do you think it will go?"

"Hopefully it will be fine." Unbidden, an image of herself with Draco at the Burrow came to mind, and she frowned. He'd been there plenty of times, even bringing Astoria with him occasionally, but it would be something else entirely for them to attend _together_. Yet again, though, she was getting ahead of herself. Such a scenario was extremely unlikely.

"It will be. I promise." Ginny gave her a reassuring smile. "We all love you, just remember that. Once a Weasley, always a Weasley."

Hermione laughed. "Even if my name is only Granger?"

"Yes, of course." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry is family, and his name has never been connected to Weasley."

"Yes, but Harry is Harry." He could do no wrong in Molly's eyes.

"Oh, trust me, I know." Ginny chuckled wryly. "When Mum found out I had ended things, she couldn't look at me without bursting into tears. She wanted Harry as a son so badly. I've never been more of a disappointment to her than I was at that moment."

"But she loves Blaise."

"She adores him. And I know she can see the difference, see why things didn't work with Harry. But she will always consider Harry family."

Hermione smiled. "Good. He needs a family."

"Well, this has been lovely, but I have to get back to practice." Ginny glanced out the window of the box. "I see the others out there. Stay as long as you like, Hermione."

"I have to get Rose before too long. I'll probably be here another hour or so. And Ginny, thank you. This has been really nice."

Ginny tilted her head to the side. "Good. See you Sunday, Hermione."

* * *

To Hermione's surprise, Rose didn't ask for the story when she picked her up from school. Nor did she mention it when they got home, or over dinner. She was very subdued and went to get ready for bed without even being asked.

Hermione expected her to come back into the kitchen after putting on her pajamas, but a few minutes after she heard the water turn off in the bathroom, she went to investigate.

Rose was in her bed, staring at the wall. She looked over when she heard her mother enter and gave her a weak smile.

"Hey. What's going on with you?" Hermione sat on the bed, peering at her daughter with concern.

Rose shrugged and went back to staring at the wall. After a moment, she finally spoke. "Mum, I don't think I want to hear any more of the story."

This admission surprised Hermione. "I see. That's fine, of course. May I ask why?"

"I know how the story ends already." She met her gaze. "You and Daddy got divorced."

Hermione's heart sank. She moved closer to sit beside Rose and started to gently rub her fingers through her hair. "Even though your father and I didn't last, we still had a great love story. He was still extremely important to me. And, in the end, we both got the best gift in the world." Rose met her eyes, her own expression guarded. " _You_."

Rose heaved a great sigh and turned away again.

Hermione hesitated, not knowing quite what to do. "Alright, dear. Would you like me to read to you?"

She didn't respond right away. "Mum? Are you sorry you married my dad?"

"That's an excellent question, and an easy one." She smiled lovingly at Rose. "No, I'm not sorry one bit. If we hadn't married, we'd never have had you. And you are the best thing to come from your father and me."

"But what if you'd married someone else, someone you would never divorce. Wouldn't that be better?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'll never know, and it doesn't matter. There's no point in wondering what might have happened if we'd made different choices. It's in the past, and we can't possibly know all of the different paths our lives might have taken. It's impossible to know, and it can only make you dissatisfied to dwell on it." After another stretch of silence, Hermione scooted closer and ran her hand down Rose's hair. "How about it? Shall I read to you now?"

"No." Rose rolled onto her back. "I want you to continue the story."

"Are you sure?" Hermione was genuinely surprised.

Rose nodded. "I do want to hear how Daddy proposed. Lila told me about her parents."

"Alright. I'm happy to tell you that. So would you rather I jump ahead to that, then?"

"I thought it was about to happen. With Elliot."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, not exactly."

Rose's face lit up. "Really? Oh." She sat up. "Do I need my notes?"

"I don't know. That's up to you."

Rose hopped up, went to her school bag, and pulled out the clipboard. "I thought Elliot was my father. Because you told Luke he was going to propose."

"And he did. And I accepted."

Rose gave her a bewildered look. "So what happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, he asked me to marry him that night, and I said yes. Everyone was very happy for us, and we spent a delightful two months planning a wedding."

"Uh oh. Two months isn't very long."

"No. If you'll remember, Elliot had agreed to work for one year. When that time ended, he was asked to stay, and he did. But then when the second term came to a close, he got another offer, one he was very interested in."

* * *

"Bulgaria?"

Viktor beamed at her. "Yes, I'd get to go home."

The casual way he referred to Bulgaria as home stung slightly, even though she knew it was silly. Of course it was home; she'd only thought maybe _she_ was home by now. Maybe that would come in time.

"Bulgaria. This... is quite a surprise. I'd expected you were here for a bit longer." In truth, she hadn't considered the possibility that he might want to play elsewhere. She was in England, he'd moved there for her, so it followed logically that he'd stay there for her, as well.

Perhaps not.

"I've wanted to go back ever since I left. I've missed it more than I thought I would." He'd never been shy in discussing his home country, but he'd never explicitly said he wanted to return there.

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm excited for you, Viktor."

His wide grin faltered. "For me? What about us?"

"Well, the move would involve you, wouldn't it?"

"Us, Herm-owny. We are to be married. You'd come with me, of course." He frowned. "Wouldn't you?"

She wanted desperately to tell him yes, to be able to so carelessly and effortlessly turn her back to everything she'd worked for, everyone else she loved.

Actually, no, she didn't want that to be an easy decision. It should be hard, something she'd need to wrestle with for a while. Viktor had done it, though; he'd come to England for her, it had seemed easy for him, but she hadn't asked him to. Why had she thought he would stay? Why hadn't she considered this option before?

"What about my career?"

"I can help you find a job in Bulgarian Ministry."

The idea grated on her; she didn't want a job because Viktor asked someone if she could have it. She wanted to earn it, to belong there. Moving to Bulgaria would mean completely starting over. Not to mention she might always wonder whether anything she achieved would be on her own merit.

"Viktor, I... I need some time with this."

"You do?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yes! Absolutely. It would be a huge decision." Her heart was racing, and not in a good way. "I think we should talk about this some more."

"You expected me to stay in England?"

"I honestly never thought about it! You played two seasons here, so I... I suppose I thought you'd stay here longer." How had they been dating for so long and never had this discussion? The answer came to her just as quickly as the question had: she hadn't wanted to think about it.

"I came here for you. Now that you've agreed to be my wife, I can take you back to my home." His expression was wary, as though he hadn't anticipated this reaction to what, for him, was excellent news.

"You've been to tryouts for Bulgarian teams and didn't tell me?"

His eyes widened. "Oh no, not at all." He shifted uncomfortably and gave her a sheepish grin. "They come to see me play and, well..."

"You're you. No tryouts necessary." Of course he wouldn't need to prove his abilities. He was a lot like Harry in that people wanted him on their side, no questions asked, nothing to prove. "Did you invite them to come watch you?"

And like Harry, Viktor was uncomfortable with the spotlight. He blushed slightly and turned away. "Well. They offered. I didn't say no. Why would I? Anybody can see me play at games and practices."

"So what does this mean? What if I don't want to move to Bulgaria?"

His expression told her that the idea had never entered his mind that she wouldn't want to go. He wasn't completely conceited, but in his position, it would be impossible for him not to have developed some form of an ego. He was used to things going easily for him, which they always did. He couldn't escape from being who he was, and she'd never begrudged it in him. She knew plenty well what it was like.

But despite her own fame and status, there were still plenty of doors that wouldn't open for her. She'd never enjoyed the same level of fame as Harry or Viktor.

"Why wouldn't you?" It was a simple question with a complex answer.

"I'm not saying I don't, but I don't know right now. There's much to consider. I know my job right now isn't glamorous, but it's a stepping stone to where I want to be someday."

"You can do the same work in Bulgaria."

She shook her head. "I'd have to learn a whole new set of laws. There are different creatures in Bulgaria." She didn't voice her desire to be Minister of Magic someday; achieving that position in Bulgaria seemed all but impossible.

"But you're brilliant! Learning something new will be no trouble." She didn't love the way he was so easily dismissive of her concerns.

"Then there's the fact that all of my friends live here."

He flapped his hand dismissively. "International travel is very easy. You can visit any time you like."

"It's not the same, and you know it. You can't just Apparate internationally without going through the proper channels—"

"Which will be easy to do—"

"But they make it nearly impossible to simply pop over for a cuppa when I want to see someone!" Hermione stopped and forced herself to calm down. She didn't want to argue with him, but this line of conversation wasn't going to be productive. She needed to think. "Viktor. I'm thrilled that you've been given an opportunity to play in Bulgaria again. But I still need time to think."

He started to protest but something in her expression—which was determined and unmovable—stopped him. "Yes. Of course. I should have known."

"What does that mean?" It slipped out before she could think, a clear bite in her tone.

"You think so much. I had thought, foolishly perhaps, that you wouldn't need to think about this." His jaw was set, and something hard came over his expression.

"You expected me to be thrilled, didn't you? To jump over the chance? Tell me something, Viktor, how many other players' spouses work?"

He scowled. "I don't know all the specifics of other players' lives."

She crossed her arms. "My guess is that it's not very many. How common is it to move? To change teams? In five years, are you going to want to play somewhere else? Uproot our lives again and take us across the world?" Merlin, her mind was spinning with the ramifications. The possibilities seemed endless; a new country every year, especially for someone like Viktor who was famous all over Europe.

She thought briefly of Oliver Wood who played for Puddlemere United and had for years. At least his situation seemed stable, though all it would take was a good offer somewhere else, and he'd probably go somewhere else, too.

The life of a Quidditch spouse had to be difficult; or, the spouse had to be flexible. She wondered how they did it and decided to ask Ginny, who would surely have some insight as a reserve player for Holyhead.

"It's not uncommon, I'll admit, but Hermione, you will be able to find something anywhere we might go!" He was almost pleading with her now, fear bright in his dark eyes.

She tried to smile reassuringly. "Viktor, I just need time. That's all. It's a lot. I'm not saying anything right now, just thinking out loud."

"Time," he repeated.

"Yes." She kissed him softly. "Time."

He let out a deflated sigh. "Time I can do."

* * *

As soon as she could, Hermione went to Ginny's flat to ask about what it was like to be married to a Quidditch player.

"Well, I'm not married to one." Ginny chuckled, amused at herself. "Butterbeer?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. "But you're around them a lot. What's it like for their spouses? Do they work? What do they do? How often do players change teams?"

Ginny shrugged. "In England, it's pretty common."

"But I wouldn't think changing teams in the English League would affect things much, what with Apparating and traveling by Floo network." She pursed her lips in thought.

"No. What's this about? Krum changing teams next season?"

Hermione grimaced. "He's been offered a place on the Bulgarian team."

Ginny's eyes went wide. "Oh, wow. I mean... That makes sense, I suppose, though it is unusual. So many players around the world want to come to England to play; it's seen as the ultimate destination. If you make it here, you're set for 's not often that someone leaves to play somewhere else. "

"I'm merely trying to gather information. I need to know what my life will look like." She faltered slightly.

"Oh, bloody hell. Yeah, right. Well listen, I know internationally, it's similar to England. A country has multiple teams, and players trade among them. But really big stars, like Viktor, are sought after for other reasons, such as playing on the country's team. You must be on a national team in order to play for the country in the World Cup."

"And naturally, he'd want to play for his home country. But Ginny, how can I just leave everything I've worked for, everything I hope to do, and move to Bulgaria?" She felt slightly panicked. "I'd have to leave my job, everyone I know..."

"And there's no guarantee you won't move again in a few years." Ginny nodded sympathetically. "It's not uncommon for players to move to a new country to play, and someone of Viktor's calibre will be highly recruited no matter where he is. Though, he might be very happy staying in Bulgaria for the rest of his career."

Hermione sighed. "Even if he never left Bulgaria, I'm not sure I want to live there for the rest of my life. I have plans, dreams, ambitions that involve me being here." She felt tears smart in her eyes. "I can't believe this is happening."

Ginny put a comforting hand on her arm. "Don't fret, Hermione. I'm sure you and Viktor will work through this. He adores you."

* * *

Five days later, Hermione didn't feel any better. In fact, she felt worse. She'd spoken to as many players as she could, and they all expressed a similar sentiment: if their spouses worked, it was always in something that was really portable. Even changing teams within a country sometimes necessitated a move. That wouldn't matter so much to Hermione if they stayed in England, but Bulgaria was a completely different story.

Not that she cared about expectations, but it was the general practice for spouses of players to put their own interests aside any time they conflicted with Quidditch. Very few had careers; most had only simple jobs they worked as a way to pass the days.

It was with a twisted knot in her stomach and a broken heart that Hermione spoke to Viktor after taking a week to think. He'd stayed a few nights at a Muggle hotel, then she had as well. They couldn't afford to let the press get wind of any trouble or it would be all over the papers, and as yet there was nothing to report.

When Viktor showed up at the hotel, he looked terrible. Her heart ached at seeing him so distraught, and she immediately held out her arms. He shuffled into her embrace, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his head in her neck.

When they broke apart, his expression showed utter despair. Hermione took his hand and they sat down on the sofa. "Hey."

The corner of his lip quirked, but that was the best he could manage. Her hands shook as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Viktor."

"I can't bear it another moment, Hermione. What do you have to say?"

"Viktor, you have to know how much I love you." She reached up to touch his cheek, but he flinched and she withdrew her hand, fighting tears. "I love you so much. And I'm so glad you came to England, that we shared this time together."

"I'll stay." He met her gaze with a strong, determined one of his own. "I've already decided. Say the word, Hermione, and I'll keep playing for England."

That only made the break in her heart complete. "I cannot ask that of you."

"You don't have to. I'm doing it. It's my choice."

She shook her head sadly. "But for how long? How long would you be content to play here, when your heart is in Bulgaria?"

"My heart is right beside me."

"No. You say that now, but how long will you be content here? Five years? Ten? I'm afraid you'll resent me long before that."

"I won't." She knew he wanted to sound firm but there was a slight tremor to his voice. It confirmed what she knew and made her decision easier to bear.

"I love you. I do, with all my heart. But I'd be miserable without something to do, something worthwhile. I can't let you stay here." She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "And I can't move to Bulgaria. I'm so, so sorry. Sorrier than I can possibly say."

He didn't speak right away, only looked at her with his heart wide on display, his eyes watering slightly before he turned away. "Is this your choice then?"

"Yes. It has to be. If you stay here, you'll grow to resent me." She swallowed hard. "And if I go, I know I'll grow to resent you. I'm not the type who can just give up my dreams, my hopes for my life. I'm so sorry."

"Why do you? If you come with me, why do you think you have to give all of that up?" He asked the question though his voice lacked conviction or passion.

"Because I can't possibly affect change in England when I'm not living here. It's simply impossible." She took his hand, and he let her, threading his fingers through hers and staring at their joined hands. "This is my home, just as Bulgaria is yours. I'm so sorry I can't be the person you want me to be."

"You are." His voice broke. "You are everything I want."

She shook her head. "No. Obviously not, because I can't go with you."

"No. You are exactly the woman I want. Your drive and ambition are part of what makes me love you."

* * *

"Wait a minute. Is it really going to end like this?" Rose clearly couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Elliot takes the other job in America?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "Yes. We broke up, even though we desperately loved each other. It just wasn't enough."

Rose was quiet, her brow furrowed slightly and deep in thought. "What I want to know is, what was your big ambition?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because... I want to… have you achieved it?"

Hermione felt like someone had knocked the wind from her lungs. "What?"

"You let Elliot move to America because of your plans and dreams. After all this time, I hope you got what you wanted to stay for." Rose looked at her hopefully.

Hermione felt slightly shattered. After reliving her breakup with Viktor, to have her daughter remind her that she had not, in fact, achieved her dreams, was like a slap in the face.

"Oh, um, wow. Well, it hasn't happened yet. My ultimate wish, which I suppose could still happen, would take years to achieve." She frowned, thinking of the mediocre job she'd been working since separating from Ron. Where exactly had her life gotten off track?

"So you let him go and then didn't even pursue your dream?" Rose gaped at her.

"It's... complicated." Hermione cringed. "I was pretty devastated after that breakup. And then... Well, do you want to hear more tonight?"

"Yes of course!" Rose cried emphatically. "Are you going to tell me more?"

"I told you we'd get to the end tonight. And I meant it."

"Oh, yes!" Rose appeared completely interested again, and Hermione supposed it was because she still didn't know the answer to the mystery. "But it's not Elliot? He's not my father?"

"No."

"But you loved him so much! Do you regret that choice?"

Hermione sighed, waiting to see what emotions drifted to the surface with Rose's question. There was nothing but a warm feeling of fondness for Viktor. "No. I don't regret it."

"But why not? You loved him! Didn't he make you _incandescently_ happy?" Rose seemed completely confused.

"I did love him, very much." Hermione bit her lip. Had he made her that happy? She didn't think so. After all the years of separation from Viktor, she firmly believed she had made the right choice. "He was my second real love, after Mark. Remember him?"

Rose made a face. "The first boyfriend. Yes, I remember him. But why, after everything that's gone wrong with Daddy, don't you regret not choosing Elliot?"

Hermione chuckled. "Because, dear. It's exactly like I told Elliot. We'd have ended up resenting each other. I knew the kind of man he was— _is_ —and he wouldn't have been happy staying in England for the rest of his life. I skipped over a lot of that story, but he was always wanting to travel and see new places. I loved traveling, and so I often went with him. But that extended to everything about him. He wouldn't have been content living in only one place forever."

Rose seemed thoughtful. "I see. I think I understand? I'm not surprised anymore that he isn't my father. I thought he was. But if not him, then who?"

"Only one way to find out... Now, as I was saying. Elliot had offered to stay in England, and I refused his offer. I also told him I wouldn't move to Bulgaria. He wouldn't let me return the engagement ring that night, but he left the hotel room. I didn't see him for two days."

* * *

When Viktor knocked on the door again, Hermione felt her stomach clenched in knots.

She let him in, and he looked terrible, as though he hadn't slept in weeks. "Hi."

He slumped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, Hermione. I hate that I don't get to keep showing you."

Tears fell down her cheeks, and she held him tightly. They stayed that way for a long time, then Viktor pulled back and she saw how red his eyes were.

"I'm so sorry." With shaking hands, she pulled off the ring he'd given her and held it out. With what seemed like tremendous effort, he took it from her, his shoulders slumping even more. Then he kissed her, one last, desperate attempt to show her how much he loved her.

But she tasted salt, and there was no way to know whose tears they were. When they finally broke apart, he had tear tracks down his cheeks.

"I'll always love you, Hermione. You—you were the first person to want to see _me_ , to get to know who I am. I'll never forget you."

* * *

"Wait a minute. You were his first love?" Rose's eyes were dreamy as she looked at her mother.

"Yes, I was." It was a sweet thought.

Rose sat up in bed. "Well, is it too late? Can you find him now?"

Hermione let out a surprised laugh. "Find Elliot? What for?"

"To see if he still loves you, of course! If you're his first love, maybe he still loves you!"

"Oh, darling, no, I'm afraid not. He is happily married and lives where his job took him. His wife is truly perfect for him, far better than I would have been."

Rose's face fell. "He's married?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, my dear. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"No, I'm not disappointed. Not if he wasn't your incandescent love." She settled back under the covers. "Will you go on? But skip any more breakup stuff with Elliot, please. It's boring."

She laughed out loud at that assessment. "As you wish, my love. Well, as you could perhaps imagine, my breakup with Elliot was devastating. It was very hard because we still loved each other dearly. I hardly left the hotel room that day or the next, but I soon realized I couldn't stay there. So I went to see David."

"Wait, who?"

Hermione laughed at the look on Rose's face. "A dear friend. _Only_ a friend, I assure you, one who happened to have an extra room in his house."

* * *

As soon as Harry got a good look at her, he pulled her inside. "What's wrong?"

"Viktor and I... We broke up." She could barely force the last words out because they threatened to consume her. She burst into sobs, and Harry wrapped her in his arms.

She stayed there for a week, barely eating. She slept whenever she wasn't at work—not that she was any use to anybody there. The entire wizarding world in England knew what had happened—the essentials, anyway, not the full truth—and she stumbled through her days, enduring the whispers of her colleagues, the long stares, and the outright gossip.

In the papers, speculation was rampant. Viktor maintained that the decision was mutual, that they'd parted well and there had been no scandal. But Hermione knew that the people she saw every day, especially Gertrude, blamed her. In the little bits of gossip she picked up, she learned that most people believed she had been at fault, had done something so awful that Viktor had ended things, and now she was devastated because she no longer had such a high-profile boyfriend.

They could all rot, the lot of them.

Her brightest moments were at Grimmauld Place with Harry and the other people he recruited to cheer her up. For the first two weeks, every day was a surprise as to what he'd planned or who he'd invited over. By the end of that time, she'd started to look forward to leaving work, and not just to be free of her co-workers' judgment.

Hermione found, after not very long, that her favorite moments were those with just Harry and Ron.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Rose pushed herself to a sitting position and gaped at Hermione. " _Mark_? The first boyfriend? Why is he around?"

Hermione had to laugh. "Mark had always been around. We'd been friends all through Hogwarts, and after our relationship fizzled, we eventually settled back into friendship. Though it was very strained for at least a year."

Rose shut her mouth, shaking her head as she settled back into the covers. "I did _not_ see that coming."

"Shall I continue?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright. Like I was saying, I quickly found that some of the best times I had were spent with David and Mark..."

* * *

The days blurred as Hermione pushed through each one, but before she knew it, the Christmas season had arrived. Ron came over to Grimmauld Place more frequently, and Hermione found herself awaiting his visits with more than just casual interest. He, even more than Harry, was able to get her mind off Viktor, and he made her laugh like nobody else.

Then something happened on Christmas Day at the Burrow that sent her down a completely different path than she'd ever imagined finding herself on. Molly had strung up mistletoe, as she did every year for its beauty, and while hurrying down the hall on an errand for her, Hermione and Ron happened to cross paths under an especially lovely sprig. It wasn't a magical mistletoe, but Blaise Zabini, who'd been invited for the first time by Ginny, just happened to catch them at the exact moment when they'd both arrived under the feisty plant. He immediately started making a big deal about it, laughing and cajoling and making it impossible for them to escape without kissing. Ron was completely red in the face, and Hermione was blushing furiously, but she stepped on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. Ron barely moved except to lean into her very slightly—so slight she wondered if she'd imagined it.

When Hermione pulled away, there was a delightful fluttering of nerves in her tummy. She overbalanced and had to put her hand on Ron's chest to keep from tripping. There was something intense in his eyes when they met hers. She hurried away, but the feel of his skin on her lips lingered.

* * *

"Wait. Mum!" Rose drew out the word in exasperation. "Why are you kissing Mark? He hurt you so much before!"

Hermione chuckled sadly and kissed Rose's hair. "You're absolutely right, he did. But he had apologized for what happened when I was dating Joey. It's one reason we became friends again. He was really and truly sorry, and since I missed my friend, I forgave him. I mean, I forgave him long before then, but his apology allowed us to begin rebuilding our friendship."

Rose frowned. "Why did you forgive him before he apologized? Isn't that backwards?"

"Not always. Forgiveness is for the person who gives it more than the person who receives. The person who has done wrong—in my case, it was Mark, for kissing someone else when he was with me—may not be sorry for a long time, if ever. But if I held on to that bitterness, that hurt, waiting for him to see the truth of what he'd done, then that would only hurt _me_. He isn't suffering, I am. And those emotions of hurt— if they're allowed to build and fester—will only lead to more pain and hurt."

Rose still looked confused, and Hermione figured it might be too abstract for her very literal-minded child to grasp.

"You don't need to understand now, love. Someday you will."

Rose looked at her notes once more. "You said we'd be finishing tonight, that I'll hear how Daddy proposed to you. Is that still the plan?"

"Yes, if you'd like."

"I would. Please continue." She set her notes side and snuggled under the covers.

"Well, I knew after that brief kiss that I felt something for Mark, whether something brand new or an old ember that had lain in wait for years, I wasn't sure, but I had no idea what to think about it. It wasn't until a few months later after a long walk around London that something happened."

"What happened?" Rose eyed her warily.

Hermione laughed. "We kissed. And it was so much better than that peck on the cheek at Christmas."

Rose made a face. "I don't want those details, please, Mum. Just... skip ahead a bit. What's the point of all of this?"

"Ah, yes. The point. Before I get to that though, I need to know that you understand why I forgave Mark. Or at least trust that I had good reason and trusted him completely."

Rose let out an enormous exaggerated sigh. "I think I do. Trust you, I mean. I've had friends hurt my feelings before, and we always make up. It's kind of like that."

"Very much like that, yes." Except she'd had to decide to trust Ron with her heart again, which was a very different thing. But Rose didn't need those kinds of details at this point.

"Can we move on now? I'm pretty sure I already know where this is going."

"Oh you do, do you?" Hermione gave her a sideways look and saw Rose watching her closely.

"Yes. But let's get to the part where you decided you wanted to be with him. Like really be with him. Marry him."

"You figured it out?" Hermione felt a wave of sadness.

Rose nodded. "It's Mark. He's my dad. I know because he's been your friend for so long. And he was the first boyfriend—I figured it couldn't possibly be him when he was there at the beginning, but I hadn't considered he might come back. So it makes sense."

"Do you still want to hear?"

Rose was thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "I still want to know why you married him. And why he wasn't the one you wanted to keep forever."

"I'm not sure that's a topic for tonight. Let's just finish this part, with Mark—I mean, your father." Hermione started to gently rub Rose's back. "We kissed near the end of March, but it wasn't until a couple of weeks later that anyone knew about it. We were at the Burrow for a family meal..."

* * *

Hermione was walking briskly through the house, looking for Ginny. She was probably off in a corner somewhere, snogging Blaise. She'd been through nearly every room in the house already and only had a few left to check.

She turned a corner and found herself in the same hallway where she and Ron had been caught under the mistletoe. Just at that moment, he appeared at the other end. Hermione had every intention of walking past him on her search for Ginny, but she caught his eye, glanced up to the ceiling where the mistletoe had hung, and winked as she passed.

She felt pretty good about her simple flirtation, but she had no time to enjoy her fun. Ron grabbed her wrist as she walked by, spun her against the wall, and started kissing her. Passionately.

It didn't last long. At the first sound of someone else in the house, he stepped back, a very pleased expression on his face. He winked back at her and continued on his way, leaving her breathless in the hallway.

She thought no more of it until later that evening, once all the children were tucked in bed and the adults were sitting around talking. All of them, from Arthur and Molly all the way down to Ginny and everyone in between who was there, were sitting around a fire, enjoying the beautiful evening. The sun was setting and casting a golden light over everything. It was lovely, and they sat in silent awe of the display for a few minutes.

Then Blaise tossed back a swallow of his drink. "So are you two, uh, together?" He waved a finger back and forth between them and smirked. "And I'd think carefully about how you answer because I saw the two of you in the hall earlier." Hermione blushed scarlet. She was pressed against Ron as close as she could possibly sit and not be in his lap.

Ron looked at her with his familiar crooked smile. "It's safe to say we're something, I think."

Ginny's jaw dropped. Molly squealed and clapped her hands together. Harry looked stunned. There was a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and amusement on the faces of the others. Then almost everyone started talking all at once, wanting to know what had happened and how, who had made the first move, and why hadn't they told anyone?

Hermione found herself enjoying the attention, and she reveled in the realization that her being with Ron made so many people happy. In knowing that, if they stayed together, she'd have an automatic family who loved and supported her. It was an overwhelming realization. After ending things with Viktor because she didn't want to leave England, having everyone's love for her confirmed in such an enthusiastic manner made her feel truly accepted for the first time in a very long time.

Right there, surrounded by the family she had loved for over half of her life, was exactly where she wanted to be. And she was allowed approximately thirty seconds to bask in that before Ginny demanded to know what had happened. The intense, single-minded fire in her eyes made it clear she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Hermione blushed and looked at Ron, who was grinning at her. Then she cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose it started with Ron coming around Grimmauld Place, since I'm staying there with Harry. And it was so nice having the three of us together again."

"But then I started showing up when Harry wasn't there." He nudged his knee against hers. "Remember?"

"Yes, of course! You were so confused when he wasn't there that first time."

Ron smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, um, about that... I was totally pretending to be surprised."

Her eyes went wide. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I knew Harry was away. But I wanted to spend a little time with you." He shrugged, clearly unapologetic. "Only you."

Hermione's heart swelled with pleasure. "I didn't know that." Someone cleared their throat, drawing Hermione's attention away from Ron's smitten smile. "As I was saying, he came once when Harry wasn't there, and we had a nice time, just the two of us."

"I wasn't sure what she thought of it, but I was definitely interested." The look he gave her was pure affection. "I mean, I've always been interested, really."

Hermione felt like she was floating. Ron had long ago apologized for his indiscretions during their first time dating, but he'd only recently really opened up about how he'd felt during eighth year. They'd talked through everything, and Hermione believed he would never do something like it again. Kissing the other woman had been a poor decision borne of feeling extreme pressure from many quarters, not just from her. But he'd since learned to recognize the feeling, and he was getting much better at facing the problem rather than looking elsewhere for some kind of relief.

"We started doing more and more together, but as friends." Hermione smiled at him. "He'd come to my work and bring me lunch."

"We'd take long walks around the neighborhood." Ron took her hand in his, threading his fingers with hers.

"Talk for hours." The past few months had been truly magical. She'd felt so calm, so at ease. Ron had been so patient with her as she mourned the end of her relationship with Viktor, never pressing her for more than she could give, always putting her needs before his own. He was also really good at making her laugh. Whenever she had a rough day—or rough week, rough hour, whatever—he always tried to make her laugh. And even though that certainly didn't solve the problems, it made them feel more manageable. Plus, she knew he was on her side, no matter what.

* * *

"We started dating in April, got engaged in November, and married in June." Hermione smiled fondly at the memories.

Rose was quiet and still, then she rolled onto her back and looked at her mother. "I'm glad daddy apologized. Did he ever do anything like that again? Is that why you got divorced?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, darling. Not at all. Your father never did anything like that again. It was an exception to his character. A one-time thing. Everyone makes mistakes, and I firmly believe in second chances."

"I still want to hear how you got engaged." Rose yawned.

"It was very sweet. He knew that I didn't want anything big. Viktor had gone all out, taking me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by an elaborate proposal. Your daddy took me to dinner, but he didn't make a big fuss of it. Then we went for a walk in London, which we liked to do, and when we got to a park that we loved, he surprised me by asking me to marry him. I said yes." The memory was bittersweet. "We got married eight months later."

"You loved him?"

"Oh, yes, very much so. He was absolutely the one for me when we started dating." Hermione smiled to herself. Ron _had_ been exactly what she'd needed right then, but she'd gotten so caught up in the romance of it all, the familiarity of Ron and his family, the way it was easy to be with him, that she hadn't considered what was best for all of her. It turned out Ron wasn't ambitious and didn't especially want her to be. He was content with an easy life, but Hermione wanted more, wanted to give more of herself. Ron was a wonderful person and father, but he didn't connect with her on many levels.

Rose had a very puzzled look on her face that morphed into a frown after a few moments. "Hold on, Mum. I heard an awful lot about Luke, whom you didn't even actually date, Joey, and Elliot, but Mark—I mean, daddy—was only at the beginning a little and at the end."

Hermione laid down beside Rose and gazed up at the ceiling. "That's true. But, I didn't really delve too deeply into my friendships during each story. However, your father was there through the rest of them, like Harry, Ginny, and so many others. Joey was my first serious boyfriend after your daddy, and it was thanks to Joey that your daddy and I started talking again. That was so nice. We'd been friends since our first year at Hogwarts, and I truly missed him as a friend. That's partly how I feel now. I know we are divorced, but I'm looking forward to having my friend back."

"I do think you started to get on better once you moved here. Away from daddy." Rose tapped her chin contemplatively. "And he seems more relaxed around you. So you two were better off as friends?"

"I think so. We'll always be great friends, and we share the most precious treasure possible."

"Me."

"Yes."

"So you and Daddy became friends again while you were with Joey. What about Elliot?"

Hermione chuckled. "Well, now, there was some history there. In our fourth year at Hogwarts, Elliot showed interest in me, and it made your father furious, only he never would admit why. He claimed all sorts of other reasons for the animosity he felt toward him. And then over the next few years, his jealousy continued to show whenever I talked about Elliot. Our friendship was strained while I was with Elliot, but once we'd been together for a year, your daddy decided to stop acting like such a jealous tosser. He apologized and reached out to me, and our friendship was the strongest it had ever been. He was perfectly positioned to find his way into my heart when Elliot and I broke up."

"It's too bad Elliot is married now. It really seemed like you loved him." Rose yawned.

"You're right, I did. But the truth is, what happened with us was for the best. I haven't had any feelings for him since I started dating your father. Even if he weren't married now, I would never leave England and move to where he is. You are here, and nothing could entice me to move so far away, and I'm fairly certain he feels the same way. I hear he's very happy." Viktor and his wife had four children, and they were always out and about together. His smile in his photographs was genuine, with not a single hint to indicate that he wasn't blissfully happy.

Rose nodded. "I understand. And what about Joey? Is he married?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Joey has been married no less than three times. He's currently on wife number three. This one has lasted longer than the others, so maybe it will end up working out."

Rose's eyes widened. "I guess you dodged one there, huh, Mum?"

"I think you're right." She wondered if Rose would mention Luke and hoped she wouldn't. Just the thought of him was enough to send her heart racing, and she didn't know what she would answer if Rose asked about him.

But she only yawned and settled further under the covers. "Thanks, Mum. You're a great mum. And Dad is a great dad. I hope you both end up with someone amazing."

"Thank you. Your father is wonderful, and he'll make someone else very happy someday, I've no doubt about it." Rose's eyes were closed, and Hermione thought she would drift off to sleep. She started to get up, but then Rose looked at her.

"Oh, Mum. I want to know what your great ambition is. There had to be something you had in mind."

Hermione chuckled to herself. "Ah, yes, well. That particular dream seems a bit silly now."

"I still want to know. Will you tell me? Please?" Rose gave her her best pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Alright. I'll tell. I had it in my head that I wanted to be Minister of Magic." She cringed slightly at hearing the words, something she'd hadn't spoken aloud in a very long time, not since she'd dated Ron the first time. She expected Rose to laugh, but instead, her daughter's eyes went wide.

"Really? Mum, I think you'd be brilliant!"

"You think so?" Hermione gave her a skeptical look.

"Yes! You care so much about people, and magical creatures, and everyone says you're brilliant. It would be really neat if you became Minister!" Rose's eyes were shining.

"Well, it would require really joining the workforce at the Ministry, and not in my current position. I'd have to learn all kinds of new things, make connections with people who have influence..."

"Sounds like just the kind of thing you'd enjoy." Rose smirked. "I think those little plots you do with Aunt Pansy and Uncle George aren't quite enough, don't you agree?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh really? Well, I'm glad to know I have your support."

"I think you'd do really great things for people, and help them, like I always see you doing for your friends or random people we meet when we're out." Rose's expression was so earnest, her words so sincere, that Hermione felt a bit misty-eyed.

"Thank you, my love. I believe it's bedtime now. Are you all packed for the Burrow this weekend?" She located Rose's suitcase against the wall, open and half-filled.

Rose grinned sheepishly. "Well, I'm close? I can finish in the morning."

"See that you do. I'll take it over to your father tomorrow." After making sure it contained everything she would need, of course.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Just like you do every other weekend. I know how this works, Mum. We've been doing it for months."

Hermione stood and tucked Rose in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, darling. Sleep well!"

After closing Rose's door, Hermione went back to the kitchen. It was late, far past Rose's bedtime. Hopefully it wouldn't have too much impact on her tomorrow. Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and pulled out the journal she'd started earlier.

She wondered what her future held—if she would struggle to find someone else, if she would decide to follow her dream of becoming Minister in order to help people. Would anyone even be interested in her at all?

Without meaning to, she thought of Draco. The way she'd felt upon seeing him the day before was something she hadn't experienced in a very long time. When their eyes met, she felt her entire world shift. But of course, it hadn't meant anything to him. It hasn't even been a rare occurrence; they'd been in each other's presence hundreds of times over the years. No, the only difference was with her.

Somehow she was attracted to him again, after almost fifteen years since their one heated kiss.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, Hermione shed a few frustrated tears. Honestly, as delightful as these flutterings of attraction felt, they were futile, and she didn't want her first fancy after Ron to be a dead end. Draco Malfoy was not an option, and the sooner her heart got the message, the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive Reviews Welcome: The author of this story accepts reviews/comments of people who simply enjoy their work, of course. But they are also happy to read and consider a thoughtful review of the work, even if it includes constructive criticism.


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